


A Sparkeater By Any Other Name

by ClothesBeam



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Murder, Sexual Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in his functioning Drift has a normal interface. There’s no money involved, and it’s even with someone he actually likes. So naturally, he falls <i>madly</i> in love.</p><p>But no one ever imagined it would come to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t usually write stuff like this. Please heed all the warnings in the tags. While it starts out tame, the further we go down the rabbit hole the more messed up it’s going to get.
> 
> Obviously this is going to be full of major character deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 27/01/2016: Grammar and word choice changes only.

Most of the crew had been hauled back to the Lost Light by now, and they had initiated a sleep cycle for those who’d been caught up in the surprise quantum jump and hull breach. Apparently Ratchet was taking advantage of the peace and quiet to get a record amount of reconstructive surgery done.

Drift, meanwhile, was sitting with Rodimus in his office. Rodimus was listing off things he wanted to say in his speech while Drift jotted down and arranged the good ideas. The ship’s hull wasn’t the only thing to have taken serious damage; they would need something to boost morale.

Finally Drift put his datapad down and slid it across the desk. Rodimus glanced over it, nodding to himself. “Yeah, this is perfect. Thanks.”

Drift stretched out the kinks in his shoulder lines before standing. “Everything will be fine. If we can get through this, we’ll be able to get through anything as a crew,” Drift replied.

“That’s great! I’m gonna use that too…”

“It’s already in there near the end,” Drift added. “I just thought you needed to hear it yourself first.”

Rodimus gave him a gentle smile. It had Drift’s faceplate heating up as he glanced away. As though reading his mind, Rodimus smirked. “Would you like to stay here with me tonight? You look a bit stressed out yourself.”

“I, um…”

He would like that very much, but he wasn’t exactly experienced with casual interface. In the Dead End he was just paid to get his client off as fast as possible, while preferably avoiding clouding his own mind with the aftereffects of overload. But he knew that wasn’t what Rodimus was asking for.

He settled with saying, “I would, but… I’ve been celibate for a long time.”

“So nothing too wild, then?” he asked mischievously. He got up and slid across the desk so he was sitting right in front of Drift. He took his hands, all but making the ex-Decepticon blush again.

“I think I’ve had my fill of ‘wild’ for now,” he replied, reaching one of his hands down to lightly stroke Rodimus’ thigh. He tensed slightly when the captain’s free hand rested on his aft, but felt warmth blossom in his chest when he leaned his head against his shoulder.

“Well, you can do that for as long as you like,” Rodimus murmured, moving his hand to trace a finger between the edge of Drift’s ‘facing panel and his thigh.

Drift squirmed with pleasure and Rodimus raised his head to watch his expression change. “Why have we never done this before, again?”

Drift wondered if that was supposed to be a trick question. “Because we were just friends?”

Rodimus laughed softly and kissed his cheek. “That’s never stopped me before. How far do you think I can get around the ship before Magnus arrests me for abuse of power?” he wondered aloud.

Drift felt a sickening pang of jealousy before intellectually realising Rodimus was just exaggerating to get himself going. But the extent of his conviction was as yet unknown.

For the time being, Drift pressed their mouths together. This was new. This was nice. Rodimus gently guided him to sit in his lap, and then leaned back slightly to break the kiss. Drift realised he was waiting for an actual answer.

“I think he’ll barge in here right now and arrest you on the spot.”

That seemed to work well enough. “Well then, we had better get moving, hadn’t we?” he replied, letting his panel slide open.

Drift automatically took hold of his spike right away, but made himself wait to hear what Rodimus wanted. Rodimus wasn’t his client. _This was special._

“What is it Drift? You want my spike?” he whispered by his audial. Glad he didn’t find just grabbing him strange, Drift stroked it firmly to indicate ‘yes’. “Where do you want it?”

Drift was shocked to find Rodimus’ fingers brushing over his external sensors when he hadn’t even noticed his own panel moving aside. He jerked his hips, encouraging the touch. “Where do you think?”

“I was thinking your valve, but if you’re going to use your mouth to be a smartaft…” His gentle smile stayed in place and he kept stroking the edges of Drift’s valve, indicating he hadn’t really changed his mind. _He’s just teasing._

Drift sighed with pleasure as the fingers slid into him slowly and carefully, seeking the places that would bring him the most pleasure. “R-Rodimus…” he murmured, clinging tighter as he began sliding off the desk.

The captain quickly adjusted their arrangement, sitting further back, but never once taking his fingers out of the slick valve. Drift groaned softly as the fingers pressed harder in the middle of their shuffling.

“Is that good, Drift?”

“Yes,” he said shortly, rising a little higher on his knees so that Rodimus’ hand could thrust better. He didn’t need any more encouragement than that.

“Oh Drift,” he moaned, eyes raking over Drift’s quivering body. “You want more?”

“I’m ready for you.” Readier for spike than he’d ever been. _So hot, and all mine_. At least, for the moment.

The entry was slick and easy. Drift vaguely realised Rodimus acted big even though he wasn’t. Not that he had a problem with that right now. His ability to angle every thrust at _that_ spot was more than enough.

Drift started lifting himself up and down, egged on by Rodimus’ hot breaths around his neck and audial. “Oh Primus, that feels so good.” Rodimus tried to hold him closer without interrupting his rhythm.

“Hah, so do you,” Drift added, satisfied when his partner shuddered at his words.

“You’re so beautiful. I want to see you overload.”

The new wave of heat in Drift’s faceplate had nothing to do with his arousal. Even like this, Rodimus was still spouting his romantic rubbish. Though, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“If you keep talking like that, you’re going to,” he murmured between grunts. He was getting tired now – it had been a long and difficult day – but his hips seemed to have a mind of their own.

“Show me, show me.” The demand was soft, even if Rodimus’ usual impatience was coming through.

Drift smiled as he curled up, overload hitting him out of the blue. He’d had desperate clients before, but none of them made him feel so desired. Not like this. _No one can compare to Rodimus._

Rodimus groaned loudly, transfluid shooting into Drift. “Oh yes, yes…” They both clung to each other as they recovered. Drift’s ventilation system was demanding space to operate, but he didn’t want to let go.

Finally, it was Rodimus’ gentle prodding that caused Drift to get to his knees and allow them to separate. His relieved systems heaved as much cool air through his vents as possible as he sat next to Rodimus. “ _I want that in my intake next time._ ”

“We can do whatever you want next time,” Rodimus murmured. He smiled gently as he let his gaze wander over Drift. “We should get cleaned up before turning in.”

Drift smirked. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

* * *

 

Drift had moved carefully to avoid disturbing Rodimus during his recharge. His training allowed him to move silently, slowly, carefully. Face-to-face combat was not his only strength. His real talent lay in what he could do from the shadows.

The lighting was dim and comfortable in Rodimus’ hab suite. Drift’s spark pulsed in his chest warmly and he stared down at the captain’s recharging form. Drift had already been dedicated to his cause, but now he felt so much… _more_. Rodimus hadn’t called him dirty, or a cheap whore. They had shared pleasure, not taken it from one another. At that moment, he knew.

_No one loves you as much as I do._

But there was work to be done. If things stayed this way, he would never have Rodimus to himself.

_No one else will get a chance to._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 27/01/2016: Grammar and word choice changes only.

Rodimus patted the recharge slab in confusion while he tried to convince his optics to come online. He really did not want to face everyone just yet, and he hadn’t even memorised that speech. “Drift?”

When no reply came, concern finally got the best of him. His optics snapped online, and his spark sank in disappointment when he saw Drift wasn’t even in the room. He’d wanted to cuddle a little longer, but mostly, he’d wanted to ensure Drift understood he wasn’t about to start courting him or something. He felt he should’ve made that clearer yesterday, but they had both been impatient. Drift wasn’t the best frag he’d ever had, but… it had been nice.

He fumbled for his datapad as he entered his office. Already it was full of memos from Magnus. _The crew is restless. Give your speech. Swerve smells of engex._

Rodimus groaned and pulled out his speech notes. He reached over to the PA system and casually flicked it on. “Howdy doodly my dear crew… dly! Meeting in the central hangar in half an hour. I hope to see all of your lovely faceplates there!”

Less than a second later another memo was added to the pile. Something, something, _that’s not standard procedure for addressing one’s crew._ Magnus had even included a selection of templates for ‘future reference’.

“Boring!” Rodimus muttered, deleting all five of them. Did he have them all prepped before take-off or something?

For the next half hour he worked on his speech. But in the end he was disappointed; Drift never did come into the main hangar. Maybe Rodimus had left him feeling awkward?

* * *

 

Drift smiled down at the datapad. It glowed brightly in his dark room. Some would call using his position to access the ship’s security mainframe from his own datapad an abuse of power. But Magnus wasn’t here to complain about it right now, so he didn’t particularly care.

Now that he could see and hear just about everything that was happening on the Lost Light, it was time to gather information. He couldn’t let Rodimus know what he was doing. _He wouldn’t understand_. If he had to… _dispose_ of anyone, it couldn’t be traced back to him.

A few swipes to the right took him through the cameras in the nearby corridors and into Rodimus’ quarters. At the moment they were empty, and everything seemed to be in the same place as last night. Another swipe gave him a view of Rodimus in his office. He was carving something into his desk as he slouched over, studiously ignoring the datapad with yellow alerts all over it.

Drift smiled gently, letting his finger trace over his captain’s face and shoulder. Out of curiosity he zoomed into the desk in an attempt to see what he was doodling. _D-R-I…_ From what he could make out, it was his name written in an alphabet from one of Earth’s languages. His spark warmed at the thought.

_I’d carve your name into my spark chamber._

His optics narrowed as he watched Ultra Magnus enter the room. He stood before him stiffly, immediately launching into a dressing-down for being irresponsible. Rodimus shrugged guiltily and picked up the datapad. He began fiddling with it, but not really doing anything.

Drift shook his head. No, Ultra Magnus was a good force. As long as his reprimands _stayed in check_ , he would make Rodimus into an even better person than he already was. The fact he seemed to have zero romantic or sexual interest in anything also helped put him at ease.

Drift reluctantly left them to it so he could continue flicking through the camera feeds. He was meant to be finding things out, not watching Rodimus. He paused when he reached the medibay. It seemed most of Ratchet’s patients had recovered enough to be able to move out of the ward, and the medic was currently sorting and counting boxes of medical supplies.

Drift sent a message saying he would like to see the reports on what they still had available in the medibay. As third in command, it was most certainly his business. And Ratchet more than likely had several _useful items_ that he wouldn’t really notice going missing every now and then.

He flicked across more empty corridors and found the psychiatrist’s office. Rung, or whatever. He’d only paused because the doctor was staring into his camera intently, and had something plugged into the side of it. Fearing he might trace something back to his datapad, Drift quickly moved on, but made a mental note of him as someone to watch out for. If he wasn’t tracing, he was probably disabling his cameras for one reason or another.

Drift was about to leave it there for now when a room he had never seen before came into view. There was a hole in the wall, as though something sharp had sliced through it. He frowned, absently fingering the handle of the sword on his right hip as he thought. Maybe it was just damage from the last owner? As the one who had bought the ship, it was his responsibility to fix any defects.

A comm from Rodimus interrupted his thoughts. “Drift, are you free? I need to talk to you.”

His fuel lines froze with guilt before he remembered that he hadn’t actually done anything to anyone yet. He would have to get over that feeling soon enough, though.

“I’ll be right there.”

_Anything… anytime…_

* * *

 

Rodimus’ already short attention span was failing under the crushing weight of memos. He’d thought Magnus’ secretarial behaviour was meant to make his job easier! He continued ignoring the growing pile as he carved English letters into desk.

He was halfway through the ‘I’ in DRIVERLESS when Magnus himself burst into his office. “Rodimus,” he growled, glaring at the graffitied desk as though it had personally offended him.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it o…”

“Get back to work!” he interrupted. “If you want to be captain of this vessel, then start acting like one. Don’t you have any sense of responsibility?”

He muttered in frustration before picking up the datapad again. “What am I even supposed to do about Swerve?”

Magnus gave him a look of disbelief, until the situation dawned on him. “While the final decision in disciplinary measures is generally mine, I need your input. It’s your ship and your crew after all. I can send you recommendations based on the law, but how you interpret and enact it is at your discretion, to a degree.”

“Oh,” Rodimus muttered, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “I get it now, ok.”

Ultra Magnus nodded. “Very well then,” he replied before turning and leaving. Rodimus hesitantly sent through about ten short answers before his mind began to wander again. He just didn’t like sitting still.

Memories from last night were brought to the front of his distracted processor. He hadn’t seen Drift all day and was beginning to worry. He brought his finger to his comm unit twice before finally going ahead with the call. “Drift, are you free? I need to talk to you.”

The response was almost immediate, but Drift sounded strange. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

 

Drift was about to let his presence be known to Rodimus when two messages came through to him. The first was from Ratchet saying he was obviously going to include the report with his usual paperwork and _I have been CMO in some capacity since before you were constructed thank you unkindly!_

The other was from Rung. It was a politely worded message regarding his role on the ship, and a reminder that he could talk about anything from current feelings of isolation to older conditions such as circuit booster addiction.

Drift frowned and deleted that. If Rung kept sticking his nose in his business, it could cause trouble for him in the future. But for now, he had more important things to think about. _Namely, Rodimus._

He stiffened when the door opened in front of him suddenly, but Rodimus just smiled a little and stepped aside to let him in. “Hey Drift, how have you been? I noticed you didn’t attend the crew meeting today,” he said in a rush.

He hadn’t even realised one was on. Perhaps that was what had prompted Rung to address him personally. He would have to be more careful from now on. “I’m fine. I was just getting used to the ship’s systems and the paperwork procedures.”

Rodimus looked almost forlorn. “So was I, I guess. Are you uh, still ok with what we did last night?”

“Ok with it? It was wonderful.” _No one has ever made me feel so desired._

“Oh, ok,” he looked slightly relieved, “that’s good! I also thought I should make it clear… I’m not looking to court anyone right now.”

The pain he felt at the rejection was almost physical. Rodimus didn’t want him after all? “Aha, I’d guessed as much…”

When Rodimus gave him a concerned look, he knew he hadn’t been convincing. “Drift…”

_He’ll want me when he sees my devotion._

“Why did you call me out tonight, anyway? Magnus got you stressed out?”

“Well, yeah, but I was more worried about you. Normally you show up to all my speeches,” he added with a wink.

Drift approached him and pushed him back into his office chair. “Shall I make it up to you, then?”

While Rodimus looked unsure, his fans clicked on anyway. Drift dropped to his knees in front of him and smoothly parted his thighs. Now this type of ‘face was something he was far more familiar with. When Rodimus stayed silent he continued touching more boldly, and eventually his panel did move aside to release his aroused spike.

By the time Drift was done with him, he wouldn’t remember what he’d even asked him here for in the first place. And things would be just fine if this encouraged Rodimus to call him over more often.

_I love you. I need you._

_And you need me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thought that Rodimus is carving your name into his desk. It fills you with determination!


	3. Chapter 3

Drift ran his tongue over Rodimus’ spike as his fingers slid into his wet valve. His captain squirmed in the chair, air moving in and out of his frame quickly.

“D-Drift,” he murmured, fingers resting lightly on his cheek. The rest of his body was so tense it felt like something was about to snap.

Drift smiled around his spike and made as if he were replying, “Hmm?”

Rodimus groaned and bucked his hips gently. Even like this, he was conscious of hurting him. Drift had had an aversion to doing this for anyone since he’d got out of Dead End, but for someone so considerate? _Anytime… anywhere…_

Rodimus’ spike was the first indication of his overload, then his valve began to contract. Drift swallowed the transfluid and released the softening spike as he turned his attention to gently running his mouth over his captain’s external sensors.

Rodimus slumped in his chair, finally relaxing again. Drift smiled to himself as he slowly withdrew his fingers from his valve. The right side of his face was covered with various fluids, but he didn’t mind that now.

Rodimus reached into his desk drawer for something to help him clean up. “Good _Primus_ , Drift, where did you learn _that?_ ”

He glanced away, smile fading. “You don’t want to know.”

Rodimus gave him a concerned look. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh? I, of all people, am definitely not judging you.”

He released a sigh and just said it outright. “Dead End, Roddy.”

“Oh, right… should’ve known.” He reached down with a polishing cloth and gently wiped the rest of his fluids off his face.

Drift took the damp cloth with a smirk and scraped it between his dentae. ‘ _Til we are one._

Rodimus rolled his eyes at him, but jumped when his comm went off. “Rodimus, this is Red Alert. I-I think there’s a Sparkeater aboard this ship!”

Both of the room’s occupants stilled. Rodimus smirked. “Finally, something interesting,” he muttered to Drift before answering. “Show me, show me!”

_Things are about to get very interesting indeed, Roddy._

* * *

 

They entered the room near the engines together, and the murder scene immediately became apparent. Drift made his face twist into a grimace as he inspected the hole over the spark chamber. Disgusting, _but effective_.

“Rodimus, why don’t you go to your habsuite with Ultra Magnus? Let me deal with this.”

_Magnus would never lay a hand on you, unlike some of the perverts and criminals that came aboard._

Rodimus frowned at him and shook his head dismissively. Drift immediately backed down, not wanting to fight with his captain. “Skids has already reported that thing is going after Rung, so it should be pretty easy to trap it if we use him as bait near the engine room. Looks like, uh, he’s the brightest spark around here,” he admitted reluctantly.

_He won’t be for long._

“You plan to use him as bait? Isn’t that a bit risky?” Red Alert asked.

“Oh trust me, it’ll be fine!” Rodimus placated with convincing bravado.

Drift had decided. He wouldn’t get a better chance to _remove_ Rung before he became a problem. “I’ll meet Skids and Rung to make sure they get here,” he said, making his way to the exit.

Rodimus gave him a concerned look. “You shouldn’t go off alone.”

“ _Everything will be fine.”_

* * *

 

Drift hid behind the corner to the next hallway, watching the Sparkeater devour another victim. _It was so efficient_. If he could somehow corral the beast to the right place at the right time, no one need ever know he was the one targeting them.

The thing appeared to have finished its meal, and was now looking behind itself. It seemed to sniff the air before sprinting down the corridor in his direction. His spark quailed instinctively, but Drift was smirking.

_You think you’re the worst thing on this ship?_

His mouth formed a flat line as he drew both of his swords in one smooth movement. He sliced off what appeared to be its dominant arm with one swing, and carefully stabbed the other blade into its chest, above the stomach containing the sparks. The green acid that acted as its energon spurted up the wall. Drift followed its progress to see some of it had landed on the camera that watched this hallway, melting it down. The injury was enough to make the monster keen and back off for a moment, but it seemed to be hungry enough to try leaping forward again.

One of Wing’s movements came to mind as Drift sheathed his blades and stepped forward. He pinned one set of its flailing, clawed appendages behind it. He felt his processor _shift_ before managing to pin the other arms as well. He clamped his mouth shut and struggled with its powerful limbs. In the end he overpowered it because he was perfectly centred and ready to act with cold disregard.

The Sparkeater whined in distress while Drift pushed it to the ground so he could assign pinning duties to his knees. He drove his fists between its ribs methodically, precisely calculating the force he’d need to subdue it. One, two, three vicious punches to the floating ribs did the trick. Next he drew the sword on his left hip and pushed the tip into the back of its neck. Enough to hurt, but not enough to sever anything important.

“I have a proposition for you, Sparky.” The thing whined again and kicked beneath him. It obviously wasn’t intelligent enough to understand his words, but it could understand the show of strength and the not yet being dead thing. “You stay out of trouble, and _I’ll make sure you get fed regularly._ ”

He shifted the blade so it wasn’t stabbing the creature anymore, and slowly stood. “Do we have an agreement?”

As soon as it was able, the creature fled. Drift noticed it was still heading in Rung’s direction. Well, no matter. Either it would get rid of Rung, or he would save his new pet just before the ship jumped.

He reached for his comm unit. “Rodimus, I tried to stop it from killing the people in corridor 6A, but it got away. It seems to have started heading for Rung again? How close are he and Skids?”

“What the frag Drift? Don't fight that thing alone!” he yelled crossly before answering his question. “Skids is almost here now; we’re setting up the trap as we speak.”

So, it would have to be Plan B, then. Well, the psychiatrist hadn’t actually done anything to him yet…

“I’ll see if I can take a different route and cut it off.”

“Be _careful_ , damn it. We don’t need to lose anyone else this week.”

Well, he wouldn’t. At least, _not to the Sparkeater_.

* * *

 

“W-what are you doing?” Rung asked nervously as Rodimus held his arms splayed for the Sparkeater.

“Just trust me, it’ll be fine!”

Drift could hear the other crew members all talking and shuffling nervously through the broken wall he was hiding behind. The Sparkeater ambling through the hallways finally came into hearing range and he prepared himself. If this didn’t work, he sure as pit didn’t want to end up halfway through the engine.

“Drift, wherever you are, we’re about to initiate a jump. Stay clear,” Rodimus commed him, not seeming to realise he was so close. He sent back a silent signal that he understood so that he wouldn’t hear him replying.

Rodimus’ plan went off without a hitch, but with much yelling from all involved. After the door slammed shut, Drift put his own plan into action.

The beast was panicking as though it knew something weird was about to happen to space-time. He stepped out from behind the wall and made his presence known. “Come on, you made this hole in the wall earlier. You can get through it.”

It seemed to deliberate for a moment, as though trying to decide which fate was worse. Eventually it scrambled over to him and squeezed through the hole. Drift led it down the hallway for a bit, and stopped before the part of the wall that would lead to the rubbish pit if they could just cut through it.

He turned, only to find the Sparkeater inches from its first attempt to pry his chest open. “ _I think not.”_

He continued turning, using the creature’s momentum against it, letting it run itself into a wall. He savagely struck it in the ribs and neck cabling. The Sparkeater dropped to its knees and curled up defensively.

One of its claws reached for him even still. Drift took its remaining arm and locked its elbow joint. He pushed at just the right angle for the sick snap of inner struts. The creature screamed and wailed in pain as he let the useless limb go. He used one of its other trembling claws to cut through the wall himself.

Finally, he stomped his foot at it with a growl as he pointed at the crack in the wall, and the Sparkeater scrambled inside. “As I was saying, you will stay here. I will bring you food. In your current state, bringing attention to yourself will mean you’ll die. Clear?”

Another whimper was his only response.

_Good._


	4. Chapter 4

“Drift, I’d like you to go see Rung today,” Rodimus said as he sent another memo back to Magnus.

Drift’s head snapped up at the statement. “What? Why?” he asked as calmly as possible.

“Well, I’m getting everyone who came into contact with the Sparkeater to go, just in case. I went myself this morning. It’s just a check-up, ok? Don’t look so scandalised.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Rodimus rolled his optics and shook his head. “Nothing more than what’s wrong with the rest of us. Just go, please?”

He stood and sighed. _Anything, anytime._ “All right, since _you_ asked.”

Rodimus’ smile was hesitant this time, but Drift didn’t comment. He left his captain’s quarters and made his way down the corridor. He looked through the open door of Rung’s office to find him and Skids talking.

“Ah, here’s my next appointment. We’ll have to continue this chat later,” he said. “How are you, Drift?”

“Fine,” he replied shortly, letting Skids past before entering the room. He watched Rung pour warmed up refined energon into something that looked like a teacup before taking a seat. He gestured at the furniture opposite him, which could be used either as a chair or bed.

Drift sat upright stiffly, and accepted the cup. Something about this reminded him of the time he’d spent with Wing. He remained silent, not willing to offer anything up without prompting.

“Rodimus told me you also had a close call with the Sparkeater. How are you getting on this morning?”

Rodimus was really that worried about him? “I’m fine. It was hardly the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

“It didn’t affect you at all? Usually the spark quivers instinctively, making it difficult for a Cybertronian to coordinate their actions and thoughts.” He took a sip of his drink, never once taking his eyes off him.

Was he expecting a different reaction? Would he have to fake out to get the shrink to leave him alone? “Well, I think I felt my spark quiver a bit, like you said. Trying to subdue the Sparkeater was a bit nerve-wracking. But my meditation exercises help with staying in synch.”

“Oh, really? There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Drift. Why did the creature flee from you like that? I’d have thought one of you would have had to die in that corridor. From what little credible information we do have about Sparkeaters, they’re unrelenting.”

Drift glanced away, thinking fast. He hadn’t even thought to prepare a story about what had happened. He couldn’t exactly say he'd threatened it and then let it go in the hope it would finish Rung.

 _I’m beginning to wish it had reached you_.

“I’m not sure what happened, exactly. I managed to injure it then get some of its arms behind its back so it couldn’t go for my spark or my brain module. I was about to pierce the back of its head with my sword when it surprised me by breaking free and running off. Maybe it thought my spark wasn’t worth the trouble?”

“You speak of it as though it’s sentient,” Rung observed quietly.

The only way he could see to shut down this line of questioning was to use his religious views as an excuse. The thought made him want to purge his tanks but… _This is necessary._

“While our intelligence levels may differ, all creatures feel something of this world. Wasn’t there a time when those who were created cold were considered physically and intellectually inferior? I must give it the benefit of the doubt.”

Rung frowned and began writing something on his datapad. “Drift, I can see you’re still stressed. I’m going to write you up for another session this time tomorrow, all right?”

“No, I’m busy. TIC duties don’t do themselves.”

“Then I’ll recommend Rodimus appoint you an assistant until you’re completely healthy again.”

Drift frowned at the appointment notice in his hand. “I’m not coming in again.”

“Then perhaps you should have a word with Ultra Magnus about non-compliance? I have a duty of care to you now.”

_It would be so easy to sink my sword through your brain module right now…_

But of course, while the microphones might be disabled for patient confidentiality, the cameras were still working. This wasn’t something that could be caught on tape.

“ _Another time, then_ ,” he replied and abruptly left the office.

* * *

 

Drift scanned the reports Ratchet had sent him. Their supplies were still plentiful, given they had to be prepared for years’ worth of injuries. So plentiful, in fact, that Ratchet had counted most of them by the crate, not individually. Drift smiled and began planning his _visit_.

He sat at his desk and worked through his pile of paperwork, glancing up at the camera feed every now and then to see when Ratchet was going to retire for the night. It took longer than he thought for the medic to enter his hab suite and get on his berth.

There would always be the risk of Ratchet getting an emergency patient, but this was the best chance Drift was going to get. He signed off on another page before standing and collecting the new device he had made. It could temporarily disable camera feeds, or if he was prepared in advance, it could overlay the feed with a normal screen until he told it otherwise.

He input a looped recording of the empty medibay before standing on his chair and removing the ventilation cover on the ceiling. He had to move through the vents incredibly slowly to remain silent, but he didn’t need to rush this job so it didn’t matter.

After checking for Ratchet again, he started making the loop play. Drift removed the nearest medibay vent cover and dropped into the room. He passed the five slabs on his way to the back wall, against which most of the spare boxes of supplies had been left.

He was careful not to move things around too much, and began subspacing things decisively. Wipes made especially to absorb energon for quick clean up during surgery, injectable sedatives, samples of chemicals that could be mixed to form poisons, tiny welding devices, and a few scalpels all made the cut.

Drift froze in the middle of replacing the last box’s cover. He could hear Ratchet walking around inside his hab suite through the wall, and that sound had to be the door to it opening into the hallway. Drift moved to the nearest slab and hid behind it, hoping the medic wouldn’t need to come this far into the room.

Drift flinched and ducked down further when the door whooshed open and the lights flickered on. He couldn’t see what was going on because if he raised his head any more his finials would be visible. He listened to the footsteps wander into the room, optics drilling into the edge of the berth before him. Ratchet muttered to himself as a shuffling sound came from the desk against the wall to Drift’s left.

He hoped Ratchet found whatever he was looking for over there. Or there might be… _a problem._

Ratchet gave a frustrated sigh and the footsteps began moving toward the back of the room, and toward Drift, once again. He rested his hand on his sword as he listened with all his might. He tensed as soon as Ratchet came into view.

But his hand slipped off the blade’s handle. He just couldn’t… _He can't see me. It's of no consequence._

Indeed, Rathcet wasn’t looking in his direction. All of his attention was focused on the table in the other corner. Ratchet sighed in relief, almost mirroring Drift. “There it is!” he grumbled. He picked up a folder and walked to the other side of the room without looking at the berth behind him. He kicked the vent cover as he passed. “What idiot was on maintenance today? They’ll be putting it back up this time, not me!”

Drift’s hands shook as he waited, making sure Ratchet was going to stay in his hab suite for at least a few minutes. When he’d collected himself, he jumped back up into the ventilation shaft and replaced the cover hastily. He stopped the camera loop and paused to centre himself.

So, he couldn’t kill the mech who’d saved him. Or was this feeling some kind of premonition?

_My planning will just have to be meticulous._

As he crawled back to his own hab suite, Drift decided he should get some recharge in before seeing Rung tomorrow. He headed to his berth and brought up his rights as a psychiatric patient from the official documentation folder. His smirk came back to his face when he thought he’d found a way around his predicament.

* * *

 

“I-I don’t want these sessions to be recorded! You could give those files to anyone.”

“Drift, I respect your privacy as my patient. I would only ever give these files away if a law enforcer demanded it for a legitimate reason. You can trust me.”

“The only people I trust are Rodimus and Ratchet. As long as your personal microphone stays on, I’m going to stay silent!”

“Drift, don’t…”

Drift stared at him, waiting. He was being serious. And it wasn’t difficult to pretend to be paranoid when he had been for so much of his life.

Rung sighed and finally obliged him. “There, microphone off. But I definitely can’t shut down the cameras. Also, this is going to make keeping track of your progress very difficult.”

“Oh, I understand,” he replied offhandedly. “But what if the camera footage was to go missing?”

Rung frowned, but didn’t seem fazed by the subtle threat otherwise. Drift recalled that one of his patients was Whirl, after all. “Though your tampering may have made you forget, Red Alert is the head of security. I’ve asked him to pay special attention to this room for the next fifty minutes.”

Drift was vaguely disappointed, but at the same time glad he could say whatever he wanted here. He folded his arms, waiting for the next question or whatever. He was definitely not admitting to his tampering.

“So, if you have quite finished your posturing, can I actually try to help you now?” His tone remained even and sincere.

“The only thing you can do to help me is keep your nose out of my business.”

Rung let forth a deep sigh as he shifted his sitting position. “Usually I would say there's no need to rush, but this time I am quite worried.”

_You should be._

* * *

 

“You wanted to see me?” Drift asked as he stood in the doorway of Rodimus’ office later that evening.

His captain looked tired and spoke flatly. “Rung has been expressing concern about you. I wanted to hear your side of the story.” He indicated the seat on the other side of his desk.

Drift frowned in practiced confusion. “What did he say?”

Rodimus pinched the bridge of his nose. “His current diagnosis of you is ‘psychopath’. He said you threatened to kill him during your session.” Rodimus looked weary, as though he didn’t want to believe it.

_Lying would be easy._

“All right, so I insisted he not record data of my sessions and store it where it could be seen by anyone. That doesn’t mean I _threatened_ him.” He folded his arms, trying to look upset at the very idea.

“Rung was quite insistent,” he added, but Drift could see he had almost won him over already.

“He’s probably just saying that because I used to be a Decepticon and he doesn’t want me on the ship,” he replied quietly, looking at the ground.

Rodimus gave him a sympathetic look. “All right, I’ll talk to him again. Tomorrow you need to head out on a mission with Ratchet. It seems something strange is happening on Delphi, but I can’t just let our only medic go off alone.” He brought up a mission brief and showed it to him. “I need you to ensure he comes back alive.”

“I won’t let you down,” Drift replied with a nod.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, a chapter that’s somewhat worthy of the tags!

Drift stared at the medibay ceiling and shivered at the memory of his recent brush with death. But perhaps even more disturbing than that was the reminder of the DJD’s existence. Now he knew no Autobot would ever put him out of his misery if it came down to it.

But Ratchet had saved his life once again. And he’d returned the favour again, now glad that he had prevented himself from panicking during his medibay heist. It was just as well he had stolen what he needed at that time, though. Now there was more medical staff than ever to deal with.

Still, Drift felt sick at the possibility that he could have gone offline without ever winning Rodimus over. He’d returned to the ship with their new crewmates, and with a new resolve in mind. He had to begin dealing with his obstacles now. And while Rung himself was being difficult, his patient and head of security could be the place to start.

_I’ll get at you one way or another._

“Drift, how are you feeling?” Ratchet asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was lying on the adjacent data slab, but was running his diagnostics scan over Drift’s frame anyway.

“Oh yeah, never better,” he replied sarcastically. “You’re supposed to be resting too.”

“You can’t expect me to just laze around in my own medibay while…”

“As acting CMO, I would highly recommend it,” First Aid replied as he reached the pair of them. Ratchet grumbled something unintelligible but undoubtedly rude while First Aid took note of his vitals. “It looks like the vaccine is doing its job well, though. I’ll release the pair of you later today if your vitals remain steady.”

He checked over Drift before turning to the medibay entrance. “All right, we’re ready to take visitors,” First Aid called into the hallway. “Please don’t touch the patients, they could still be contagious, though it’s unlikely…”

Drift smiled when Rodimus shuffled into the room and pulled up a chair beside his bed. “Hey, how are you two?”

At Ratchet’s further muttering, Drift translated. “We’re only being kept here for First Aid’s peace of mind. We both seem to have recovered fully.” He glanced up to see Rung enter the room, politely hanging back for now.

Rodimus sighed and relief washed over his features. “I should have sent you with more backup. Not everyone made it back, did they?”

“No, but it’s not your fault. We weren’t prepared for something like that.” He squeezed his arm reassuringly. “No one is prepared for the DJD…”

First Aid tutted loudly at the contact. “Hey, you already sound like Ratchet! You learn fast!” Rodimus teased.

As Ratchet sputtered and grumbled, Drift met Rung’s optics over Rodimus’ shoulder. The psychiatrist’s brows lowered and he left the ward silently.

“But Primus, Drift, the DJD didn’t do anything to you, did they?”

“You mean other than give me a terrible disease?”

Rodimus just laughed gently. “Yeah, other than that.” Drift shook his head slowly.

_I love you._

* * *

 

Drift reattached his weapons to his hips now that he had finally been released from the medibay. He picked up the great sword and felt something strange about it. It was almost like the power inside had recoiled from his touch before finally recognising him.

Unnerved, he took a detour by his quarters to leave it behind. He scanned the camera feeds briefly to confirm Red Alert was on duty and alone before heading toward him. It was time to get serious.

“Red Alert,” he greeted as he entered the security warden’s office. The monitors were all on, and he twitchily glanced between them. “There’s something I’m worried about.”

“What is it?” he asked, automatically backing away from him as far as he could.

“There’s… there’s this room that doesn’t appear on any of our schematics. There are no cameras in it, either.” Red Alert was enraptured already. _Hook, line and sinker._ “Will you meet me tonight and come look at it with me? I don’t want the higher ups to know that I know, and…”

Red Alert gulped. “O-ok, I guess it’s my job. You really think Rodimus and Magnus…?”

Drift nodded and gave him directions to meet him near his secret hallway. “Don’t tell anyone about this. They could be listening from anywhere!”

Red Alert glanced over his shoulder before nodding. “All right, but I’m coming armed.”

“Of course, I don’t expect you to trust me just like that. But you need to see this. It’s a conspiracy…” He paused purposefully and shook his head. “Maybe… maybe I’m just seeing things.”

“We’ll soon see,” Red Alert replied. Drift nodded and left him to his final shift.

* * *

 

“Drift, one of the maintenance drones has become dysfunctional. Would you please collect and dump the rubbish manually for today? Rodimus is being, ah, hysterical about our lack of progress in the quest, so I cannot do it myself,” Ultra Magnus said over the comm, almost silently.

Drift held his sword up to the light to check he’d buffed the scratches out properly. Damn droids. He’d just electrocute them next time.

“Can do.”

He made his way to the rubbish pit quickly, slightly anxious to check up on his pet. If Sparky wasn’t still where he’d left him, he’d need to change his whole plan in the matter of an hour. He entered the out-of-the-way hall and dampened his olfactory sensors at the smell of dregs of decaying energon. There was a reason no one came in here.

Drift exited the hallway onto the balcony from which the rubbish was usually dumped into the pit below. When it got full, the incinerator would activate automatically. The pit was less than half full now, so he probably had another two weeks to make his move with this method.

Something shuffled from below, but it went silent when it realised who he was. “ _Soon, I promise_ ,” he all but cooed as he moved over to the rack of trolleys the drones usually used to cart large items across the ship manually.

Of course the first place he headed to was Swerve’s. It wasn’t really imperative to clean anything else today, and what Magnus didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Ah, so glad you’re here! This lot are really cleaning me out and it’s beginning to get a bit crowded back here with the bin bags. The little packets from the mixers also need to go, though I should buy more once we get to another trading planet…”

Drift let Swerve babble and pour drinks as he collected the refuse off the ground for him. At the feeling of being watched, he turned to see who was trying to drill a hole through him with their optics. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see it was Rung, surrounded by Skids, Whirl and the recently arrived Fortress Maximus. The latter looked twitchy and nervous, and wasn’t touching the drink in front of him.

Drift waved at him jauntily before setting off to dump the rubbish. He got down the hall without any interference, indicating Rung wasn’t about to go after him now. He tilted the trolley so the rubbish would fall before putting it back where it belonged. He jumped down into the pit as well before making his way over to the hole he’d cut into the wall a few days ago.

He didn’t see the Sparkeater again as he traversed the room, but he could hear it lurking. He smiled before squeezing through the gap and entering the corridor. He’d told the paranoid security bot to meet him at the entrance, so he quietly made his way out, being careful to stay out of the sight of the camera watching the main hall.

“Red Alert!” he whispered, revealing himself at the last moment. “You have to see this.” The red and white mech's hand jumped to his gun before he realised who it was. He nodded haltingly and they both walked back past the rubbish dump and into the corridor next to the engine rooms.

It was very dark down here. Red Alert began taking careful steps, and jumping at every little noise. Drift bent over and peered through the crack in the floor when they reached the dark room at the end of the corridor. “Can you see what’s down there?”

He bent over to look and gasped, optic glued to the crack. “Is that… is that Overlord!?” He brought out a recording device. “Oh Primus, I have to warn Rung, and make sure Fortress Maximus never finds out about this.”

Drift smirked at the information; another idea for just how he would attempt to be rid of Rung was forming. But for now, he would be better off without a dedicated security officer watching the feeds. He drew the sword on his right hip in a fast, well-practiced movement.

Just as Red Alert was beginning to raise his head, Drift sliced into the gap between his helm and the collar of his armour. The security officer keeled over, his separated head hitting the floor before he did. Energon leaked into the room below, but he wasn’t concerned. They weren’t going to say anything to Chromedome for weeks yet, and it would probably take that long for it to fall through the room.

Drift picked up the head before putting an arm under each of Red Alert’s and dragging him back down the corridor in a way he wouldn’t leak any more energon on the ground. As he approached the rubbish pit he could hear the Sparkeater shuffling around excitedly. It was surprisingly easy to do all of this. _And so satisfying_.

“Dinner time, Sparky,” he said as he shoved the body through the gap. The body disappeared into the darkness and the tearing of metal reached him before a trickle of energon creeped into the hallway. He pulled out some of the medical grade wipes and began cleaning up the mess.

“Good. Less mess next time.”

The Sparkeater retreated from him a good way, back into the pit of garbage. Drift covered Red Alert’s body parts with rubbish before jumping up to the next level and landing on the platform he’d started on.

He checked his chronometer before exiting the pit. He’d spent a little too long in there, but it wasn’t enough on its own to warrant suspicion. He returned to his own hab suite for a more thorough clean up.

_One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does this fic have so many hits again? ^.^'


	6. Chapter 6

Rodimus held his head in his hands as he listened to Ultra Magnus report on the events of the day. “Red Alert is still missing and hasn’t been seen on any of the cameras for almost two days. We are beginning to suspect suicide. Rung seemed reluctant to say so, but he confirmed it may well be a possibility. Still, if we can find his body, it might be possible to revive him before he goes offline.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Why would anyone want to do that on my ship? Am I that bad of a captain?”

“You cannot blame yourself for someone else’s pre-existing medical condition,” Ultra Magnus reminded, practical as always.

Rodimus sank further behind his desk, if that was even possible. Drift’s hand squeezed his shoulder and he leaned into the comforting gesture only slightly, not wanting to look too unprofessional when Magnus was standing right in front of him.

His face softened, as close as he ever came to showing an emotion other than annoyance, and he added, “There’s more, but I think it can wait for another day. I will fix everything else myself.”

“Thank you, Magnus,” he murmured, not even feeling up to arguing about something like that.

He nodded and left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Rodimus collapsed. He let his arms fold over the desk and his head rest in them as he trembled. Drift came closer and began rubbing soothing circles over his frame.

Rodimus knew he should tell him to stop it so he wouldn’t hold any illusions about their relationship, but a comforting gesture was something he needed right now. And he wasn’t likely to get that from Magnus.

“Don’t be upset Roddy,” he said as he leaned over him.

Rodimus sighed. “I know, it’s not my fault, apparently.”

“You should get to berth. Rest for a while.”

He looked down at the graffitied desk as he considered the idea of moving. “I suppose I should get cleaned up first.”

Drift nodded and hauled him to his feet, herding him to the wash rack attached to the captain’s quarters. “All right, all right, I’m getting there,” he grumbled good-naturedly. But a frown fell over his face when Drift followed him inside. “I can clean myself, you know,” he murmured, keeping his back to him.

“I should hope so,” Drift replied, delicately resting the fingertips of his left hand on his waist.

Rodimus was hoping he’d get away without another one of these encounters, but it didn’t look like it was going to be that simple. He and Drift had to have a talk about this, a proper one. But right now, he just couldn’t be bothered dealing with something so difficult.

He let himself be pushed into the wall as the hand slid over his hip and rested high on his thigh. “Just relax Roddy, I want to take care of you.”

Rodimus shuddered as his front was pushed snugly against the cool tiles. Drift reached out to turn the tap on. Warm solvent trickled over the right side of their frames and he felt Drift’s mouth press softly against the back of his neck.

Rodimus slowly shifted into a more comfortable position as Drift’s hands began trailing over him. Primus, Magnus would kill him if he knew he was ‘facing an officer ranked below him. But he felt it wasn’t exactly an abuse of power when he was the one feeling so reluctant.

He was about to open his mouth to comment on his feelings, but a soft moan escaped him instead. Drift was tracing the lines that ran up his chassis while sucking on a particularly sensitive segment of his neck cabling. He felt himself getting hot, hard and wet in response. Their first encounter had been fine, but now Drift was always controlling the ‘face so it would play to his strengths and knowledge.

His face heated up when his spike popped out seemingly of its own accord. Did he… did he even want this right now? He bit his lip when Drift’s hand closed around him and started working him up. His hips bucked into his TIC’s hand.

He vaguely felt Drift’s other hand entangle his fingers as they splayed against the tiled wall of the now rather more steamy bathroom. As he ground himself into the hand he felt Drift’s spike rubbing against his aft. Pleasure consumed his senses and he let himself fall into it, ignoring the consequences yet again.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

_No._

“D-don’t stop,” he gasped out, thinking he’d do something stupid like break down and cry if he made everything stop now.

Drift released Rodimus’ hand and grabbed the showerhead, angling it so that it would stimulate Rodimus’ external sensors. The other moved faster over his spike and Rodimus’ hands clenched into fists as the sensations became overwhelming. He moaned as he came, almost drowning out the sound of Drift’s words.

“I love you.”

Rodimus froze, unsure what he should do. Maybe he could just pretend he hadn’t heard? To his relief, this plan seemed to work, for now.

“You’re tired, we should stop messing around,” Drift said as he aimed the spray of water at something other than his interface panels.

“Yeah, I am…” But Rodimus felt sick.

* * *

 

Drift was still considering Rung’s possible reactions when he reached the psychiatrist’s office door. He stepped back when the door opened, only to find Rodimus was leaving. His captain looked somewhat nervous when he spotted him, but flashed his usual confident smile.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” he said hurriedly before striding down the hallway and toward the bridge.

Rung was still putting something away in his desk drawer when Drift reclined in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. For once, the psychiatrist hadn’t opened with small talk. Even when he sat down, he just seemed to be… fuming.

The small mech rose suddenly, and stood closer to the head of the couch. “I know you killed him,” he murmured.

Drift glanced over at him with a raised brow ridge. “What are you talking about? I thought Red Alert was the paranoid one.”

He heard a distinctive creak as Rung’s hands became tight fists. “Do _not_ sit there and joke about it.”

“It’s gallows humour, Doc. I can’t help myself. I’m a war veteran.” He turned to look at him properly. “Besides, how do you know he’s dead? Surely it’s not too out there to say something just spooked him into hiding.”

“I won’t let you kill anyone else. I’ll find the evidence myself if I have to.”

Drift simply smirked at him. “And they say I’m the crazy one. If all you’re going to do is accuse me of murder, I might as well just go get on with my day job, hmm?”

“Do you know how many years I’ve known Red Alert for?” he asked in his normal, patient tone as he sat in his chair again and pulled out a datapad. When he didn’t answer, Rung continued. “No, neither do I, because I lost count a long time ago. It took so long just to get him to trust me. I thought he was nearly ready to reintegrate into society for good. But now all of our hard work has gone to waste.”

“So you lost a friend?”

“I don’t intend to lose any more patients to your ridiculousness. If you would just accept the fact that Rodimus isn’t interested in you, then…”

“And who’s watching the room today, Rung?” Drift asked loudly, casually eyeing the swords he’d left on the end of the couch.

“Of course I’m not going to name any names. I’ve learnt from that stupid mistake already.”

“Oh well,” Drift replied as he sat up straight, just about ready to leave. “I’m sure Magnus knows.”

“I can tell you it’s _not_ whoever is currently on duty,” he added hurriedly. “I’m obviously going to be more discreet from now on.”

Drift re-equipped his weapons and turned to the door. He could believe that. Still, he shrugged and said, “ _There’s only one way to know for sure.”_


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a few more days since Red Alert’s last appearance, and Magnus had now pulled himself away from inspecting doorframes to conduct a formal investigation. Rung, on the other hand, seemed to have calmed down and was back to acting as though he could magnanimously help Drift to become whole again or whatever.

Drift was patiently waiting for the appointment to end when Fortress Maximus barrelled into the room. The next thing Drift knew, he had a gun barrel the size of his torso in his face. The door slammed shut and locked as the wide-eyed prison warden strained to vent consistently.

“Swords over there, you over there.”

Drift complied with his gesticulating, throwing his weapons against the opposite wall. He opened a private comm with Rodimus at the exact moment his captain did the same thing. “Watch out, Fortress is… Ugh, guess you can see.”

“What the frag is going on?” he hissed as he raised his arms. Fort Max was too busy tying Rung to his chair with a length of pipe to notice he was talking to someone.

“We don’t know yet. He just started randomly shooting people then holed himself up in there with you two. Let us know what’s going on any way you can. We have a visual through the camera over the desk, but that’s it.”

Now that Fort Max was pointing his gun at him again, Drift didn’t dare reply. He rested his hands on the back of his head and waited for further instructions. “Get on the ground and don’t move!”

Drift dropped to his knees, hoping his compliance would cause Fortress to start ignoring him. No matter how well-trained he was, making him sit on the other side of the room was a stupid thing to do. Undoubtedly Rung would monopolise his attention very soon, and then he would have his chance.

“Fort Max, what’s the problem?” Rung asked gently.

“What’s the problem? The problem is that Prowl isn’t in range of my fist!”

Understanding seemed to wash over the psychiatrist’s face. “Why don’t you use the communicator over there to tell your demands to Rodimus?”

Fort Max managed to keep an optic on each of them as he shuffled over to the desk and fumbled for the communicator. “Hot Rod?”

Drift fancied he could hear him cursing at the name from here.

“If you don’t turn this ship around and take us back to Cybertron, I’m going to start shooting. Who are you more worried about, your psychiatrist or your third?”

“Fort Max, there’s no need for this. Let’s just talk about it,” Rung pleaded when it appeared Rodimus had given him a negative answer. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You want a specific answer? Three years, two months, ten days.”

Drift didn’t know what he was talking about and was shuffling toward the locked door at a painstakingly slow pace. But Rung seemed to understand. “Garrus-9.”

“And I’m still waiting for them to hold up their ‘duty of care’. What a joke…”

There was a pause and Drift froze as they all stared at each other for different reasons. Drift was surprised he could relate to the statement on some level. Rung seemed to realise he was stuck in a room with two bots who were mad at him and everything he represented.

The psychiatrist bowed his head before straightening and addressing Fortress again. “Fort Max, this isn’t really just about Prowl, is it?”

Another message from Rodimus hissed through the private comm channel. “Drift, we’re going to get Swerve to shoot him from outside the window. Stay clear.” Fortunately, Rung seemed to have hit the nail on the head and Fortress was no longer paying any attention to Drift.

“It’s about Overlord, isn’t it?”

As soon as the words were out, a projection of footage from Garrus-9 appeared on the wall Fort Max was facing. Drift dared look out the window now that the plan was underway and saw Rewind and Swerve. Rewind, always recording and archiving. _That could cause a problem…_

But right now there was a bigger issue. And a bigger opportunity. As Fort Max keeled over in grief and fear at the sight of his energon-splattered tormentor, Rung reached out to him. Drift saw he could make as though he was moving Rung out of firing range when he’d actually be making him easier to hit.

Just as his hand landed on the psychiatrist’s shoulder, the shot was fired. He pushed him over, but didn’t notice the gun had been aimed wildly until it was too late. The laser flew over Rung’s head, barely grazing him, and scorched Drift’s arm before it hit the wall behind them.

_Oh, right,_ _Shit-Shot Swerve._

Rung glanced up at him disbelievingly as he reached a hand up to feel the burn mark on his head. “Rodimus, it’s under control. Tell them to stop shooting before they stir him up again, or worse, hit me again,” Drift commed the captain properly this time, ignoring the sting in his arm.

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_.” He stood and unlocked the door. When he turned back to collect his weapons, Fort Max was still on the ground shuddering.

“You saved me,” Rung said.

Drift could see he was confused. A little hopeful, even? Drift stayed silent as he left, deciding things were better this way.

_He won’t be expecting my next attack._

* * *

 

Ratchet asked Drift to move his arm again. He did so with a grimace. Unfortunately the shot had gone deeper than he’d thought. Ratchet cleaned the wound as more energon leaked. He inserted a few more clamps and started measuring the fuel line replacement segments he’d need.

“If you want to stay in here overnight, I can get this fixed up properly now,” Ratchet said as he leaned back to make a note on his datapad.

Drift conceded with a nod. “There’s nothing urgent I need to get done today.”

“All right, then. While you’re here though, there’s one thing we need to discuss. This is probably more Rung’s field of specialty but…”

Drift tensed as he waited. _What has he found out?_

“You snuck in here a few nights ago and took some of my chemical bases and syringes, didn’t you?”

Drift gripped the edge of the bed, looking away. If he knew, then why hadn’t Ratchet said anything before now?

“You’ve been acting strangely, lately. I looked through what was taken, and I know what you’re doing.”

Drift’s hand twitched, knowing he couldn’t reach for his sword until he knew for sure what was going on. “W-what are you talking about?” he finally managed to say.

“Don’t play dumb Drift, I’m your doctor. You’ve been taking a Syk substitute, haven’t you?”

He tried to not let the relief show on his face. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he could use what he’d taken in small amounts to make drugs. But if they thought he was shooting up again, he’d be demoted and put through a rehabilitation program for no reason. It would interfere with his freedom of movement.

“No, I haven’t. Do a test if you want. I’m not the one who took whatever is missing.”

Ratchet didn’t look convinced. “You’ve been fine for the last week, so it probably won’t show up on a test at this point. But before that you’d been going missing for hours at a time. The cameras have been failing at strange intervals and have even been showing what isn’t really there. I checked the footage from a few weeks ago to see who had left the vent lying around, you know. But according to that, I never returned to the medibay.

“Additionally, it’s always dark in your hab suite and you seem to be having difficulty reading social cues. Even those of someone you know extremely well, like Rodimus.”

Drift could see Ratchet had been waiting until he was sure before confronting him. The collection of symptoms was convincing. _Good thing he’s barking up the wrong tree._

“You don’t have to be ashamed, Drift. It just means another period of rehabilitation. I know things tended to get out of hand during the war, but let us take care of you properly now that we can.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he replied angrily. “It’s easier to meditate in the dark, and I’ve been busy being Magnus’ lackey when I’m not writing speeches or some guff for Rodimus. I’d never go back to boosting!”

When Ratchet looked about ready to open his mouth and protest again, Drift drew his hand back and punched him in the face. Ratchet grimaced and rubbed his jaw, but the blow didn’t stop him from continuing. “Drift, I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I’m just trying to help!”

“Well, your diagnosis is wrong,” he growled folding his arms and wincing, forgetting about the gaping hole in his left one for a moment. “I don’t think I need rehabilitation. If you still do, then _prove it_.”

Ratchet sighed and folded his arms. “I’m not your enemy. Now sit still and I’ll administer some pain killers before we get started.”

Drift glowered at him but complied. He felt he'd been _convincing_.


	8. Chapter 8

It was impossible to concentrate on his work like this. Drift wasn’t sure why Rewind needed a shot of him doing paperwork for the stupid documentary, but his watching presence was getting irritating. “Are you just about done now?”

“Look, if you don’t like it, you can take it up with Rodimus. His ego is the one who told me to make this thing,” he replied, but did finally turn the camera off.

Since his encounter with Ratchet yesterday, it had become so much easier to raise Drift’s hackles. _“You shouldn’t talk about Rodimus like that.”_

Rewind put his hands on his hips. “He knows it as well as anyone else. Are you sure you don’t want to say anything else for the movie? No, er, ‘theories’ lined up this time?”

“I have a theory that Magnus will try to incarcerate me in the brig if I don’t get this pile of work done by noon. Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?”

“Eh, I have a lot of footage from the security cameras to use, as well. Though, I’ve noticed there seems to be a lot less of you, and a lot of recording failures.”

Drift’s eyes narrowed, but he let him continue. He rested his hand on the drawer in which he was keeping the interference device Rewind was speaking of. If necessary, he could lock the door and switch the camera feed before the little mech even had time to protest.

“You know, Ratchet asked me to help him find a certain bit of footage of the medibay the other day. While looking, I noticed you weren’t showing up anywhere else on the ship. Your hab suite was too dark to see properly, but I’m sure you weren’t in there the whole time.”

“Yes, he already told me,” he simply replied, assuming that meant his office was being watched right now. “Ratchet thinks I’m a junkie now.”

“Drift, everyone else on the ship has been accounted for. If it wasn’t you, then who?” Rewind paused for a moment, folding his arms. “Why don’t you just admit it and let the medical staff help you?”

Rewind was too close. _Far too close._

“Look, I don’t want to say anything to Ratchet. He’s already done so much to help me get over it. I feel so ashamed.”

Rewind relaxed, seeming to think he had got the confession he wanted. “Then why don’t you go see Ambulon or First Aid instead?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to put anyone else out. Look, I’ll get this work done and then we can talk more in private if you want. I just…”

Rewind shifted uncomfortably. “You know, we could ask Chromedome to, um…”

Drift’s instinctive reaction was to recoil, but he prevented himself from showing his reaction externally. Currently, the only solid evidence against him existed in his mind, and Chromedome was the only one who could access that.

_It only makes sense to get rid of both of them at the same time._

“Well, I don’t like it, but… maybe it’s for the best.”

“All right, we can have a talk about it when you’re off shift. Meet us in our hab suite?”

It wasn’t ideal, but Drift had noticed that they’d requested their security cameras be removed early on in the trip. There was less chance of being noticed. “All right, I’ll be there.”

* * *

 

Rung leaned over Skids’ shoulder to take a closer look at what he was indicating on the screen. “These are all the known incidences of interference in the camera footage. There’s the replaced footage that was confirmed by Ratchet, but usually it’s just static blocking the image.”

Rung grumbled and rested his fingers on his forehead. “This would be so much easier if Rodimus would just press charges against him for rape. I don’t know for sure, but if Drift just had space to clear his head, he might be able to be talked down.

“Anyway, are you sure you want to help me with this? He’s implied quite heavily that I’m his next target, and that he won’t hesitate to take down anyone standing in the way,” he added as he sat down again.

“As long as this psycho walks free, we’re _all_ in trouble,” Skids replied. “Why hasn’t Rodimus or someone had him locked away under suspicion?”

“Rodimus refuses to see what’s going on. I’m not legally allowed to record patients if they ask not to be, so I can't present that evidence. But I think I might try approaching Ultra Magnus with our data and suspicions now that he’s working on Red Alert’s case properly.”

“Well, if that doesn’t work we could always ask Whirl to cause some trouble and get them both incarcerated for a while,” Skids replied with a shrug.

Rung gave a small start when his communicator went off, but he quickly picked up. “Ratchet?”

“Drift has denied he’s boosting, and the test I ran confirmed he hasn’t done so for at least two weeks. I’m going to keep an eye on him, but I don’t think drug use has anything to do with his behaviour.”

“All right, thank you for your help, Ratchet.”

“I’m going to go ask Rewind for his analysis of the relevant footage now. I’ll call you back when we get his opinion.” The medic cut the signal at that.

Rung checked the time before putting the device away. “Fort Max has an appointment coming up soon. I need to get going.”

“I’ll walk with you down to the brig,” Skids replied. “Just in case.”

* * *

 

Drift rolled a small energon transporter down the hall on his way to Rewind and Chromedome’s hab suite. Magnus had ordered him to clean out the drain under Swerve’s and fill the crate with wasted energon, so he had to make the meeting brief and take his tools with him. At least, that was his cover story. It was funny how no one questioned the overzealous authority figure about these strange orders Drift always seemed to get from him.

Rewind opened the door for him when he got close to their hab suite. “Magnus?” he asked with a tint of amusement.

“Magnus,” Drift confirmed with a shrug. _Too easy_.

The small mech let him in. Drift nodded to Chromedome, who was leaning against the table. “I guess you can’t stay for long, then,” Rewind said as he gestured for Drift to take a seat.

“If you’re sure about this, it won’t take long,” Chromedome said, straightening up as Drift approached. “But I don’t think Ratchet would approve of this method.”

“He doesn’t have to,” he replied, carefully sitting in the chair.

Chromedome seemed ready to go right ahead, as though altering someone’s mind was a daily occurrence for him. Drift realised that at some point, it had been. Rewind, on the other hand, was rather more hesitant. He came to stand beside Drift and put a hand on his shoulder now that he could reach.

“You should take time to think about this carefully. Some of your memories will have to be removed to prevent the addiction loop from starting up again.”

“Memories of the Dead End aren’t exactly something I want to keep in large quantities,” he replied as he planned his motion. He could draw with his right hand, remove the archivist’s head, and then injure Chromedome before twisting his hips back to allow the other sword to decapitate the taller mech.

Drift mentally added power from stance to the list of things to teach Roddy in regard to sword work.

“You’ll be like a different person without all of your memories,” Rewind murmured.

_According to everyone else, I already am._

He snapped to his feet and sliced through the archivist’s neck as he rose and turned. But he encountered a problem when it became apparent Chromedome was a lot faster than he’d given him credit for. The mnemosurgeon leaped back, his goal obviously the pistol sitting on the table next to their berth.

Drift kicked the chair out of his way as Rewind hit the ground. He shivered at the smell of energon that had splattered up his arm and leg. It was _not_ _unpleasant_.

“W-what are you doing?” Chromedome demanded as he ran himself back into the wall. His hand fumbled for the gun, but his optics kept being drawn back to Rewind.

“Forensics officer. Mnemosurgeon. You’re the most qualified murder investigator on this ship. _I should put an end to that._ ”

When Chromedome’s hands finally had the pistol ready to use, Drift made his move. He dashed forward and sliced diagonally through his neck, blade sliding through his torso. He stopped short of the spark when the hab suite’s door slid open. Chromedome’s body slumped against him as he glanced up in a haze of trepidation and bloodlust.

He stepped back and let the mnemosurgeon’s body slide off his blade and hit the floor as the red and white mech in the doorway took half a step back. Drift advanced again, dragging Ratchet into the room before letting the door slam shut and using the officer code to quarantine lock it for thirty minutes.

Drift slammed the medic into the ground and pulled a pair of stasis cuffs out of his subspace. As a part-time security officer, he had to carry them with him at all times or face the wrath of the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord. He knew Ratchet was probably enough of an escape artist to get out of them eventually, so his time was limited.

“Just stay still. Please don’t make me kill you as well.”

Ratchet vented deeply before finally demanding, “What are you doing?”

“According to you, boosting,” he replied as he stood and dragged the crate over. He’d never fit three mechs in there. He considered Chromedome’s body before bending down and hacking through the knee joint, being careful not to leave marks on the floor.

“Drift! Stop!”

He did pause and turn back to the medic. He’d never heard his voice sound so broken before.

“They’re still alive! Please, just let me…”

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied as he turned back to his task.

When Ratchet realised he couldn’t use his comm with the stasis cuffs on, he began yelling as loudly as possible. Drift turned back and pulled out a sedative this time.

“Shhh,” he murmured as he held his hand over his mouth and pinned his elbow in place with his knee. “Looks like I learnt something from shooting up, hmm?” he added as he expertly slid the needle into Ratchet’s elbow joint.

Ratchet’s optics began to fade, but the anger was as tangible as ever. “I should have let you die,” he whispered against his palm. “How many more?” he asked before he succumbed to the medication.

Drift returned the empty syringe to his subspace and pulled out the energon wipes before returning to his task. He didn’t have enough to clean up a mess like this. Luckily there was a wash station attached to this room. He only had twenty minutes left to clean everything up and disappear.

He finished dismantling the bodies and carefully arranged them inside the energon transportation crate. He manoeuvred Ratchet’s body into the empty space he'd left before shoving the final parts of Rewind in the remaining gaps.

He spent the rest of the time scrubbing the room and then himself, knowing he would smell for some time yet. Finally, he left the room and hastily wheeled the cart back to his quarters, disabling the cameras on his way without regard. It seemed Ratchet hadn’t alerted anyone else before coming over, indicating he had just been visiting, not investigating.

Drift rolled the container into his own washroom and removed the lid. He nearly had a spark attack when he saw Ratchet staring back up at him wildly, but he soon pulled the medic out of the crate of body parts and onto the floor. He pulled the showerhead off the wall and began rinsing him down as he lay on the floor, shivering.

_I’ve never seen him look so… scared._

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“Some… consolation that is,” he managed to bite out in something resembling his usual coarse tone. “What _are_ you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly planning to abduct anyone," Drift admitted. "If you keep quiet I’ll keep you in here ‘til everything blows over. Otherwise I’ll have to feed you to the Sparkeater as well.”

“What are you talking about?” he hissed. “That thing isn’t inside the engines?”

Drift was surprised by his fast recovery, but then remembered who he was dealing with. “No, I thought it’d be useful.”

He turned to pleading again. “I can still save them, you know? There’s no need for this, we can put everything back.”

“It’s too late for that. _Far too late._ And what would I go back to, near isolation because of my history? No, no. You, Rodimus and I. We can make this journey alone.” His hand twitched around the showerhead as sentences became more difficult to form. Battle protocols were zinging around his processor and clashing with his base functions.

_Just focus, steady now. Think of Rodimus. I’m doing this for him._

Drift finished scrubbing down his own frame before wheeling the energon transportation crate toward the exit. As Drift stepped out he triggered the locks to his washroom. The CMO could override just about anything on the ship in a state of emergency, but for now he’d be helpless even if he did return to full consciousness and manage to escape the cuffs. All Drift had to do was downplay the danger to everyone else.

He was still shaking slightly by the time he got to the rubbish pit. Drift dumped everything inside carelessly, including the transport container. The incinerator should have done its work by tomorrow and he’d be free of the burden of tangible evidence. Not to mention, the Sparkeater.

_Three... and a half._


	9. Chapter 9

Rung snapped out of recharge when something suddenly clicked in his processor. _The rubbish pit!_ That had to be where the evidence was being dumped, and it could be incinerated and emptied any day now. If that happened he’d have to start from square one again.

Rung fumbled for his glasses, and the communication device, which should be sitting on the shelf next to his recharge slab. As he pushed them into place he picked up the communicator and tapped through to Ratchet first. He waited, and waited, but it rang through before the medic picked up.

Rung frowned in concern. Unless he was mistaken, it was Ratchet’s turn to be on night shift in the medibay, so he should be taking all of his calls. He tried again and feared the same thing was going to happen. But just as he was about to call it quits and try someone else, he picked up.

“Ratchet, I…” Rung began, but paused when the visual feed remained dark.

“ _Ratchet can’t pick up right now.”_

“What did you do to him? I thought Ratchet, at least, would be safe from your madness after he saved you!”

“He’s not dead. But I wonder what’s so important…”

“It’s none of your concern,” he snapped as he ended the transmission.

He immediately tried Skids before Drift could try to delay him by calling back.

“I need your help.”

“Huh?” he muttered, clearly just having come out of a sleep cycle.

“I think I’ve figured out where Drift is putting the bodies, but he’s managed to find out I’m up to something. Tonight could be the only chance we have to recover the evidence before it’s destroyed.”

“I’m so in,” Skids said quickly. “Fort Max was just discharged from the brig, so I’ll see what he’s up to and be over in a minute. Sit tight.”

Rung put the communicator away. He turned to another shelf in the room and took down his small pistol. He loaded it up and put it on his person. Every time he took it down, he always hoped he’d never have to use it weapon again. But things were never that simple.

He swiped over his datapad and took the time to update a log that could be publicly accessed, should worse come to worst. He made sure to tag it for Magnus’ attention. _Gone to rubbish pit to look for evidence before incineration…_

Rung finished the short paragraph and picked up his communicator again when it went off. “It’s just us outside your door,” Skids explained.

Rung moved out and unlocked his quarters for them. “Shall we?”

Fort Max nodded slowly and took point on their way down to the rubbish pit. They remained silent, not wanting to risk missing a sign that someone was watching them. But the group reached the indiscrete service hallway with no trouble. The further they moved down it, the more their olfactory sensors reacted to the unpleasant smell of rubbish and… something else?

At the edge of the railing they looked down into the pit. It was dark down here, but Rung adjusted his optics as much as he could. Rung pointed out the crate sitting atop the pile. It wasn’t hard to spot when it was smeared in energon. “Let’s start with that.”

“Right, you’d better stay up here Fort Max. I think you’d just sink through all of that mess. Keep an eye out for psycho.” Skids put an arm under Rung’s shoulder before vaulting them both over the railing and guiding him to a safe landing.

Rung stepped toward the crate carefully, conscious of the fact he could slide down into the pile and get trapped at any time. “Oh _Primus_ ,” he whispered when he got closer to the crate.

“What is it?” Skids asked, halfway over and glancing around for danger.

“You said you were looking for Rewind earlier today? I think I just found both him and Chromedome. In many pieces…” Rung bent over to examine the body parts, half of which were in the crate. Their torsos were a couple of meters away, clearly empty of sparks. “I think I’m going to purge.”

Skids looked over his shoulder, frowning. “Doesn’t that sort of look like what the Sparkeater was doing to people?”

Rung’s fuel ran cold when he realised he was right. “That means it’s probably down here somewhere, right?” He automatically brought his hands up to cover the glowing orb in his chest, as though that would help hide his spark.

“If it is here, it’ll go after you first. Just stay close to me,” Skids murmured, looking around more carefully now.

They both jumped and swung around when a resounding crash came from behind them. Fort Max had disappeared from his position on the platform above. Rung saw something drop from the ceiling and balance on the railing in a crouch.

He realised that Fort Max hadn’t disappeared, but that he’d been knocked out or stunned with a blow and pushed into the pit below. He’d fallen head first into the rubbish and sunk till only his feet were visible, as Skids had warned.

“I wonder if I can find a way to _activate the incinerator manually_.” Drift’s whisper carried across the pit.

Skids raised his rifle and advanced. Just as he did, movement came from behind them. Rung’s optics widened when he spotted the sparks floating in the darkness.

 _“What do you think it’ll go for first? The brightest or the biggest?”_ Drift asked before moving away from the edge of the pit and over to the control panel for the room. Skids could no longer see him from where he and Rung were.

The Sparkeater shuffled around them and Rung pulled out his weapon as he tried to keep an optic on each of the threats. It looked like the monster was going for him first, after all. As it dashed forward, he shot it in the face. A dangerous game, when shooting one of the sparks could kill them all.

It hissed and backed off a bit. Rung took the chance to glance around. Red emergency lights had lit up, but it seemed Drift had cut the signal to the alarm that would normally go off as a warning to anyone working near the pit. Things were about to heat up.

“Can you get Max back up there?” Rung murmured.

“There’s no way I could throw him that far normally, and even if I could, with nothing but rubbish under my feet I’ll just sink as well. But I glanced over blueprints of the ship, and it seems there’s some sort of corridor through that wall. If we can just find a way through to it…”

Rung was suddenly extremely grateful for Skids’ ability to learn and memorise at such an accelerated rate. “I’ll look for a way out. See if you can dig a way to drag Max to the back wall.”

“What about the Sparkeater? You can’t keep repelling it forever.”

Rung glanced down and tightened his grip on his pistol. “We can’t just leave Max there. Besides, your rifle has more range on it than this thing.”

“Make it quick then,” he reluctantly agreed. They could both feel the heat beginning to rise out of the ground.

“ _Tick tock,”_ Drift taunted from somewhere above them. The temperature suddenly jumped up another ten degrees.

Skids gave Rung access to his private comm channel. “He’s playing with us.” He bounded over to the unconscious mech and began digging around him.

Rung knew a mech of Max’s size wouldn’t stay out for long. It was probably the real reason Drift was manually hurrying things up. There was no way he could murder the prison warden under normal conditions. He let a wry smile flit across his features as he hastily made his way across the pit, sliding across box lids and engex additive packets. Max _did_ have guns in his legs, after all.

Rung heard the Sparkeater closing in on him when he reached the wall. He dropped through a gap in the rubbish pile, hoping the tiny size of it would slow down the monster. When he landed he saw just what he’d expected: Drift had a back way in and out of the pit.

His feet began to get uncomfortably hot, so he lifted them off the ground and stood on something… metallic? He squinted at the ground and blanched. _Red Alert!_

Rung ignored his queasiness as he jumped off the corpse and out the hole in the wall. He dragged the security bot out with him, noticing his energon lines were dry and his spark had long since disappeared. His resolve hardened as he held what was left of his patient, and friend, in his arms. He had to find his brain module. Surely it would have the evidence he needed.

“Skids, I have a way out if you can dig your way to me. I found what’s left of Red Alert and I’m going to search for his brain module while there’s still time.”

“But the Sparkeater…”

Rung ducked instinctively as a piercing claw swiped at him. He shook uncontrollably as the monster stepped forward and blocked the way back into the pit. He’d never felt so scared in his life, long as it had been. “Yes, it’s found me.”

“I’m sorry Max,” was the only thing to come through the comm before Skids’ charging footsteps became audible. A rifle shot pierced the back of the Sparkeater’s head and came out the other side, burning into nothing against the wall.

Again, the shot wasn’t enough to kill it, but the injury slowed it down. Skids dashed around the monster and smoothly reloaded his gun at the same time. He stood in front of Rung, but before he could get another shot off, the Sparkeater froze and collapsed. The mech standing behind it pretended to brush himself off with one of his claws.

“Whirl!” Rung and Skids exclaimed together.

“Losers!” he greeted in return, splaying his arms dramatically. “Now I know why it’s called the ‘graveyard shift’. If it’s always this much fun, I should volunteer more often!”

They shifted uncomfortably at the black humour, able to feel the heat from the incinerator even in the corridor now. Fort Max was probably…

“Don’t be so glum, chums. Here ya go,” he said, suddenly tossing a spark casing at Rung.

He fumbled the catch, nearly dropping the precious cargo. The large spark was weak but steady, and the unit was still attached to what was left of his brain module. Max would most likely pull through if they got him to the medibay right now.

As they moved down the corridor, Whirl detached another item from his hip. It took a moment, but Rung finally recognised it as the camera unit Rewind had kept on his head. “Rule one of being the crew’s psycho: don’t leave incriminating evidence lying around!”

Rung ignored his posturing and smiled sincerely. At least, he hoped he’d convinced Whirl to put those days behind him. “Thank you, Whirl.”

The ‘copter shrugged and they made their way back into the main corridor of the lower level. “Someone needs to teach that poser a lesson. And if he’s got my friend on a hit list, well…”

Rung just smiled again, knowing when to not push it. “We’d better hurry Max to the medibay, then I’ll present the evidence to Magnus in the morning.”

* * *

 

“No, like this,” Drift interrupted as he corrected Rodimus’ grip on his sword. It was the one that belonged in his right hand, and had seen plenty energon over the past few weeks. Something about seeing it in Rodimus’ hands _felt so good_.

Rodimus sighed and pulled away sharply, letting his posture droop. “I can’t concentrate when I’m so worried! What is it, yet another monster? Didn’t we bring enough of those with us?” He lay Drift’s sword on top of his desk.

“Prowl is going to kill us,” he hissed as he kicked his office chair.

“Who cares about Overlord? We’re not at war anymore. We’d lose nothing just dumping him into space.”

“It’s not just Overlord. Prowl and Chromedome… Well anyway, all we can do is complete the investigation and hope for the best.” He traced a pattern over his desk as he hesitated to speak again. Drift waited patiently. “Rung still says he suspects you. Crazy, huh?”

Drift kept his poker face in play. “Suspects me of what? People are disappearing left and right, who knows what’s happening to them?”

Rodimus’ optics returned to the sword and he slumped over again. He clearly didn’t really want to have this conversation right now. “All right, come on. I need to practice more.”

Drift nodded and drew his other sword. “Ok, remember, keep your blocking angles consistent. Use your centre to stay in control and access your true strength.”

Rodimus nodded, adopting the stance as he’d been taught, but subconsciously shifting his grip out of the correct position again. Drift didn’t call him out, deciding he’d probably learn better from the experience. “Here I go.”

Despite the warning, Rodimus’ sword clanged to the ground before he’d figured out what had just happened. Drift was behind him with his blade to his neck cables and an arm wrapped around his torso to trap his free hand and prevent him from drawing any other weapons. Admittedly, he would never hold a real opponent like this…

“What’d I say about your grip?” he teased.

“Oh come on, Drift. We’ve gotta start from square one here,” Rodimus replied exasperatedly. “Slow it down ‘til I build _some_ automaticity.”

But Drift’s mind was no longer on their training.

To his disappointment, the office door opened just as he started to pull his sword away. Drift stepped away from Rodimus and sheathed it before bending down to grab the other one.

“What’s wrong?” Drift asked Ultra Magnus. He saw Skids and Cyclonus were standing on alert behind the SIC.

“As the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, I am arresting you under suspicion of four counts of murder and four counts of attempted murder. You will be incarcerated until a trial can be held.”

“What the pit Magnus, is this some sort of joke?” Rodimus demanded, clueless as ever.

Drift, on the other hand, had known it would come to this sooner or later. He couldn’t help but do the math on his fingers. “Really? I could swear it was only three of each.”

Rodimus blanched before laughing weakly. “You’re not being serious, right?”

He found it difficult to look Rodimus in the optic, but approached him slowly with an arm outstretched. Skids fired a warning shot, the blast hitting his arm. “Ratchet just fixed that,” Drift commented offhandedly.

“Put down your weapons and come quietly,” Magnus said, looking sincerely worried. He stepped forward, not realising he was now blocking the others from entering or aiming into the room.

Drift swiftly took his chance, his sword striking Magnus through the spark even as those behind him yelled for him to move. Before he could raise his gun, Drift sliced upward, cutting his head in half and letting him fall to his knees.

“There Roddy, power from stance.”

It hurt him to see Rodimus flinch when he ran back in his direction. _He’s just confused. No one told him anything about what’s going on_.

He was about to jump up and cut out the ceiling vent cover to make his escape when a powerful blast knocked him out of the air. Warnings flashed across his vision, indicating his broken hip joint. Drift stumbled when he could only use his right side to land. He twisted around to see what was going on.

A small, green and white mech crouched next to Magnus, with the Enforcer’s massive blaster balancing on his shoulder. Drift tried to get back up again, but simply crashed to the ground. The next thing he knew, small but strong hands were forcing him into a pair of cuffs.

“What’s going on here?” Rodimus demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am the bearer of the Magnus Armour and… there’s no time to explain right now. I will give a thorough debrief once he’s behind bars.”

Drift was disarmed and slung over Cyclonus’ shoulder. At this point, there was no chance of escape.

_I can wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write Whirl, I tried!


	10. Chapter 10

“I wouldn’t put it past him to find a way to escape from the brig,” Skids muttered as he checked all of his files were in one place. “Magnus said you need to stay near Trailbreaker.”

“Why?” Rodimus demanded. “If he was trying to kill me, he could have done it any time over the last month or so. There was plenty of opportunity before you all barged in yesterday.”

Skids shrugged and moved away to collect his data slug of evidence from the computer. Rung leaned over to speak quietly. “And what happens when you stop giving him what he wants, Rodimus? You have to tell him you’re not interested at some point.”

Rodimus ducked his head and glanced back at Skids, making sure he couldn’t hear them. “I will, later. And it’ll be fine!”

“Then please stick close to Trailbreaker’s side until the trial,” Rung replied patiently.

Rodimus sighed and stood. He walked over to the mech in question. “Come on, I’m turning in early.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, um, sir,” he said quickly as he stood and towered over Rodimus.

He shrugged and beckoned, guessing the large mech was about as enthusiastic for the arrangement as he was. They left the surveillance room and moved down the corridor to his quarters. “So how does the force field thing work?”

“Well, no one really knows. If I’m touching you, the field will be less likely to push you away as well.”

Rodimus deadpanned. “Was that really the best they could come up with?”

“Sorry,” Trailbreaker muttered. “I’m better with it now, but there’s no guarantee.”

Rodimus turned back to see he had actually hurt the mech’s feelings. He opened the door to his hab suite. “Well come on then, you’d better keep a hand on me.”

The mech looked embarrassed when Rodimus reached for his hand and led him inside. As the door slid shut and locked for security, Trailbreaker looked up and smiled before ducking his head again. There was nothing Rodimus liked more than a flustered mech. And, well, if Trailbreaker was up for it, he _was_ itching to get some control back over his sex life.

He pressed the large mech’s hand against his hip and turned toward him with his usual winning smile. Trailbreaker spoke again, “Well, you know, people ignore me unless they need the force field. So hearing even that’s not good enough for you kind of hurts.”

Rodimus shrugged guiltily before stepping forward. “I’m sure there are other things about you that will grab my attention,” he replied as he pressed himself into the larger mech’s torso, letting his gaze linger at his interfacing panels for a little longer than necessary.

Trailbreaker picked him up and moved to the recharge slab. He lay him down gently and hovered over him with a hand resting either side of his head. Rodimus reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him closer.

“Don’t be shy, Trailbreaker,” he murmured. “We’re not on duty now, so make sure you say something if you change your mind.”

He gasped as the large hands ran down his sides and over the most sensitive parts of his hips and thighs. He let his mind wander as Trailbreaker rumbled something above him before gently parting his thighs.

It was enough to forget, for now.

His processes hitched when the large hands continued exploring, running over and cataloguing sensitive areas. He leaned up into Trailbreaker’s touch, and was rewarded with a soft groan. “You look so good.”

Trailbreaker shuffled back off the slab and dragged Rodimus to his mouth by his hips. The show of strength had him blushing and squirming before the mech’s tongue had even started stroking the entrance to his valve. He moved from the valve and up over his external sensors and back down before reaching for his spike. Rodimus felt so small in that big hand.

“And taste better. You look like you’re about to overload already,” Trailbreaker teased, voice now noticeably rougher.

“Ah-ah, well. You know how it is with Speedsters,” he tried to reply smoothly, but just ended up desperately jerking into his touch again.

“Yeah, I do. And I love making my partner overload, so do what you need to.” Trailbreaker stopped talking there and returned to licking the external sensors and massaging Rodimus’ entrance.

He pressed his lips together at the admission, and felt his valve begin to clench around nothing. He jerked his hand down, as though to fill the emptiness himself, but ended up simply placing his hand on top of Trailbreaker’s head. “I need you inside me,” he murmured.

The large mech remained silent as he rearranged Rodimus’ legs over his shoulders. He leaned forward and dipped his tongue inside, as requested. Rodimus immediately clenched around him with a gasp as their size difference became even more obvious.

“S-so good,” Rodimus moaned, pressing his thighs into either side of his head.

Trailbreaker ran his hands over his hips and backside as he leaned forward and pushed in deeper. He began to focus on the top cluster of sensors that made him squirm.

Rodimus let his head fall back as he arched into him. “Trailbreaker, please,” he moaned, not entirely sure what he was asking for, but entirely sure that he needed it _right now_.

One of his hands moved from under his leg, leaving it to drop and splay wide. Trailbreaker used the space to reach up and pinch at Rodimus’ external sensors. The combined sensation quickly became too much and he felt an overload streak through his systems.

“T-Trailbreaker!”

He withdrew to lap up the excess fluid before glancing up at the pile of overheated Speedster. “Did you like that, _Captain_?” he asked with a grin.

Rodimus hesitated as he unstuck his vocaliser. “I’ll be remembering you for more than just your force field, no need to worry about that.”

Trailbreaker whimpered and reached down to touch himself at his words. He rested his head on Rodimus’ thigh as he did so.

Praise. Rodimus could do that. “Now get your lovely aft up here so I can return the favour.”

* * *

 

Tired of staring at the wall, Drift took out his datapad, it being the only thing they had left them with before locking him in the brig. His swords and their sheaths had been taken away, along with all the tools in his subspace. He noticed his work queue was still intact, and began signing off on things. After submitting the first bit of paperwork, Magnus – Minimus? – came down to glare at him.

Drift simply sent through another completed paper without looking up. The green and white mech seemed to deliberate for a while, but in the end he left without saying a thing. Alone in his cramped cell again, Drift opened up the security camera feed. To his surprise, that was also still accessible.

Rung was in an appointment with Whirl. The medibay’s intensive care unit was in use, and what was left of Fortress Maximus’ vaguely recognisable frame was being operated on. There obviously wasn’t a camera in his ensuite, but he couldn’t see any sign of Ratchet anywhere else. And, most importantly, Rodimus was…

_Rodimus was ‘getting around’_.

Drift’s hands clenched around the screen, almost causing the film to crack. But he told himself to be patient. He was going to escape one way or another. And when he did…

He returned to his paperwork just as Minimus entered the room again. “It’s time for your trial. Put your hands through the bars so I can cuff you.”

Drift stood and complied, storing his pad for later. As soon as he was bound securely, Minimus deactivated the laser bars that had been keeping him in. Drift followed him out of the brig and into the hallway obediently, knowing there was no point in attempting to escape right now.

And besides, he still had _some leverage_.

* * *

 

Ratchet ground his dentae together as the small tools stored in his arms worked away at the cuffs. He had a reputation for being a grump, but now he was absolutely livid. Focusing on his anger whited out the pain, at least temporarily, and let him shift the blame.

Primus, he had to get to Rung before it was too late. He just had to!

Ratchet was finally able to relax when the cuffs popped open. His shoulders slumped forward now that they could move, but he didn’t stay still for long.

He strode over to the bathroom lock, knowing all his hard work could be undone by Drift stepping through that door right now. _That particular piece of work is something I’m rather inclined to undo._

Ratchet was both relieved and concerned to see the ship was in a state of emergency. He punched his code into the door and it opened for him right away. He glanced around in trepidation when he spotted the Great Sword across the dark room, but it soon became apparent that Drift had gone off somewhere without it.

In fact, he hadn’t been seen with it since all this nonsense had begun. Was it the only thing that had been keeping him in line until now?

Ratchet cautiously approached the weapon, ridiculous though it may be, and reached out for it. The sword seemed to react to his presence, its hilt pulsing softly with energy. He let his fingers rest against the grip as he tried to work out what it was doing.

As he’d expected, it simply felt very… swordy. He sighed impatiently and withdrew his hand. If he were more inclined to spiritual nonsense he might suspect there was a deeper meaning to it being left behind. But as things were, he simply made his way to the room’s exit. He’d wasted more than enough time and his fuel tanks were uncomfortably empty. He’d thought Drift would at least have the decency to feed him.

He patted his waist for the communicator that was usually magnetised to him at all times, but was disappointed to find it was gone. The only local personal comm he had stored at the moment was Drift’s, and he was definitely last on the contacts list right now.

He sauntered off in the direction of the medibay knowing First Aid or Ambulon were practically permanently attached their devices. They would have all the numbers he needed.

_This is far from over!_

* * *

 

“Am I correct in stating that despite the discovery of Red Alert’s remains, and Rewind’s recording of his final moments, you are still pleading not guilty?” Minimus demanded flatly.

“Aren’t I supposed to have a lawyer defending me?” Drift asked. Minimus glared at him tiredly over the datapad in his hand. Drift sighed, knowing such questions weren’t going to get him anywhere. “Yes, that’s correct. As I’ve already told you, it’s only three murders and three attempted murders, not four of each.”

Minimus stood, a move that was rather more impressive in the Magnus Armour than out. “Explain.”

“Ratchet isn’t dead. I didn’t know Whirl was there.” There was no point in lying now.

Rodimus was staring a hole into the wall, but it wasn’t out of boredom this time. He looked disturbed. _I knew he wouldn’t understand. How can I possibly fix this?_

Minimus sighed and let his hand drop to the table in front of him with a small thud. “The court will have a ten minute recess before deliberation.”

Skids and Rung, the acting prosecution, immediately turned to each other and began hissing through private comms. Drift let his look of indifference pass over the jury members before noticing that Rodimus was approaching him.

He rested his hands on the tabletop in front of the defendant and leaned over before opening a private comm of their own. “Tell me where Ratchet is.”

“Let me go, and I will,” Drift replied.

“You know I can’t do that. You have him locked up somewhere, don’t you? He’ll starve if you don’t tell me where he is.”

Drift shrugged. “That’s not my problem.” Though his true feelings were somewhat different.

The flamethrowers on Rodimus’ wrists sparked a little as his hands clenched into fists. “This isn’t a joke!”

They both started when the door to their makeshift courtroom burst open. Drift pushed Rodimus away before moving back. The projectile, a glowing axe, struck the edge of the table closest to Drift. He sighed with relief at the miss; undoubtedly it had been aimed at something vital, knowing Ratchet’s expertise. And this was his ticket out of here.

“Fuck,” Ratchet muttered when he’d realised what his mistake meant.

“I think that answers your question,” Drift said out loud, and used the exposed blade to free himself from the cuffs. Thanks to his good behaviour earlier, his hands had been bound at his front instead of behind him, making things much easier.

“No, stop!” Rodimus yelled as Drift vaulted the table and made for the exit. The jury members shrank away from him, but he wasn’t interested in them at the moment.

Ratchet braced himself for impact, a grim yet determined expression on his face. Drift grabbed the medic’s arm on his approach and positioned himself for a throw. He ducked low and moved past Ratchet’s centre to compensate for his weight before harmlessly tossing him over his shoulder and back into the court room.

Drift dashed into the hallway without looking back, transforming to allow for faster movement, since this corridor was wide enough. A shot went off as he drifted around the first turn. It missed him, blowing up against the wall he’d just passed. All he had to do now was disappear into the extensive ventilation system, and then he would be free to do _whatever’s necessary_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me while writing the court scene: I played Phoenix Wright this one time!
> 
> Also, this is probably the last "nice" chapter. Abandon hope all ye who continue :P   
> Current projection is two more chapters.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 29/01/2016: Now with 100% more nightmare-inducing images!

Drift dropped into the uncomfortably bright lab. He had to keep a hand over his mouth to stop the wince from escaping his vocaliser. His hip joint had only been roughly patched up before his trial, and his arm still leaked a little sometimes. They had been fine before, but the temporary fixes were beginning to fail.

He shifted silently over to the display of complete weapons. He was sure these were the ones that were ready for deployment, and therefore wouldn’t explode in his hands, or cause a quantum shift, or whatever else Brainstorm had cooked up since their departure. Drift lay his hands on a pair of dual wield blasters, flashing back to his Deadlock days. It would be so much easier to use these from the vents than a sword…

He took them and glanced around wildly when footsteps entered the lab. He pressed himself against a bench, but the steps seemed to have stopped on the other side of the room. He took the chance to peek around the bench, only to see Perceptor bending over a microscope.

Thankfully he had his back to him, and seemed to be quite preoccupied by whatever was happening at the microscopic level. But he didn’t dare move and risk making a sound, not with an old Wrecker in the room.

“Do you think Magnus will let me keep the parts if I kill the fugitive?” Brainstorm suddenly asked from directly behind Drift.

He jumped away from the gun barrel, but there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go. He could hide from Brainstorm, but he’d be in Perceptor’s sights no matter where he went.

“No,” Perceptor replied calmly as he wrote something on his datapad. “The parts would be put in the morgue for hygiene’s sake. Now put the gun down and get me another sample of this.”

Brainstorm lay his gun on the bench almost absent-mindedly as he wandered off to get whatever Perceptor had asked for. “Don’t be fooled. It’d be much faster if I did it, but I’m far too busy working on a project that’s actually difficult,” Brainstorm explained before disappearing into another room.

Perceptor came to a halt beside the bench Drift was still half-crouched behind. It didn’t escape him that he was staying in close quarters, where the swordsmech had the advantage. “What are you doing?” Drift finally asked.

“You saved me once. Returning the favour might not be the best thing at the moment, but the alternative is even more distasteful. To me, at least.”

Drift glanced away, not expecting to have an ally in any capacity at this point. “Just stay out of my way.”

Perceptor raised his hands. “Fine with me.” He slowly moved back to his work station, in a way that allowed Drift to easily follow his movements and intentions.

Deciding to risk it, he stood up and grabbed some explosives from the completed weapons rack before seeing himself back out through the ventilation shaft. Apparently most of the crew was being gathered in the main hangar under the assumption of ‘safety in numbers’. What a joke. They all seemed to hate and distrust him for his past with the Decepticons, but along the way they’d forgotten why he’d been so feared.

_As if numbers mean anything._

He crawled slowly, hoping to remain unseen and unheard for as long as possible. Before he could do anything, he had to find his favoured weapons. He felt off balance without the scabbards.

_Soon._

* * *

 

Minimus Ambus was back in the Magnus Armour, thanks to Ratchet’s efforts. In return, he was moving medical supplies into the main hangar with him.

“You know what Deadlock was like. I need to be in that room. It’s the best chance we have to prevent any strikes that’ll wipe out half the crew,” Ratchet was saying while he pushed a cart of supplies along. “What if he tries to starve us out? And where the pit is Rodimus?”

Minimus quickly answered before the medic could make any more demands. “If this isn’t over within 24 hours, energon will be the least of our concerns. Rodimus refuses to leave his quarters, claiming Drift is going after anyone who tries to get close to him. He tried to get rid of Trailbreaker, but he’s refusing to leave him alone.”

The door opened for them as they approached. The hangar was crowded with nervous mechs. They made their way through the crowd, and rested the supplies against the wall with the other temporary medibay things.

“That’s everything,” First Aid said as he ticked something off on his datapad. “Fortress Maximus made the trip just fine, and we can keep working on his frame here.”

“Good,” Ratchet grunted, “take care of it.” Magnus watched him stride over to the main ventilation shaft in the ceiling. On his way to the middle of the room he grabbed Rung’s arm and dragged him along before planting himself under it. Skids laughed and followed them, rifle slung over his shoulder casually.

Minimus moved to find someone to board up the other vents with him. He glanced around for someone significantly smaller than him to do the small grates, and found Tailgate was the only one foolish enough to make optic contact. He hurried to hide behind Cyclonus’ leg, but it was far too late for that.

* * *

 

Rodimus had tried to get Trailbreaker to leave him alone. Drift was going to be absolutely livid if he ever found out about what they were doing. He wondered where he was right now.

But those depressing thoughts vanished when he himself stretched around Trailbreaker’s spike. He was so big. Valve ablaze with pleasure, Rodimus gasped and strained against the berth. Trailbreaker soon shifted their position, sitting back and pulling Rodimus up with him so he was sprawled across his lap.

As soon as he was comfortable, Rodimus began moving up and down, feeling his temperature skyrocket. Trailbreaker groaned against him, frame looking like it was about to start overclocking. His hips jerked as Rodimus slid back down his spike, desperately seeking friction.

“Oh, oh yes,” the lithe mech moaned.

“I love seeing you like this,” Trailbreaker murmured as he stroked Rodimus’ back. “And you feel so good.”

“F-fuck me!” Rodimus moaned as he clung to Trailbreaker with his legs. “Come on Teebs…”

Trailbreaker complied and pushed him back flat on the berth. He grasped his hips, forcing him to move along his spike, wrenching him down with every thrust. “Rodimus,” he moaned.

Rodimus looked up at him, caught up in ecstasy. He was so, _so_ close. He shuddered and caught Trailbreaker’s optic, wanting him to watch as he came undone.

However, the sword bursting through the big mech’s chest soon put a damper on that. Rodimus stared up in horrified disbelief as energon splattered over his own torso and face.

Even as his spark guttered out, Trailbreaker leaned over him protectively and held him tight. A flickering force field pushed who he could only presume was Drift away, but the damage had already been done. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I’m just… useless…”

“No,” Rodimus said hurriedly, “it’s my fault.”

Trailbreaker’s face fell and his visor dimmed. His weight settled on top of him and the force field disappeared. Rodimus’ fuel ran cold. He felt frozen in place while he watched Drift come back and haul Trailbreaker’s body off him, letting him fall to the floor. He winced when the spike left him suddenly, but didn’t dare move again when Drift crawled closer.

“Roddy,” he murmured, leaning over to lick a streak of energon off his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, going for his other cheek this time.

Managing to snap himself out of his horrified reverie, Rodimus jerked his head away violently. “What do _I_ think I’m doing?” he demanded.

Drift had the gall to look surprised by his tone. Rodimus brought up his fist and let the flames fire at his face. Drift flinched back, but seemed ready even for this. Rodimus’ hands cuffed and magnetised to the slab, weapons and comms being deactivated as a result. He watched half of his assailant’s face melt away.

“Hmm,” Drift murmured as he gently reached up to touch his face. It had already cooled and was about to set as it was. There was a gaping hole that showed his dentae and cheek struts. The metal around his optic was also bubbling and warping. Combined with his other wounds, he was beginning to look like the monster he was.

“Am I going to have to _coerce_ a medic?”

Rodimus’ mouth formed a hard line as he attempted to get his leg between them so he could kick him off instead. But, of course, Drift was a natural at ground fighting after having lived in the slums for his early years. And the Circle of Light didn’t like to use weapons all that much. Rodimus couldn’t gain an inch.

“I see you’re all stretched out already. Shall I just…?” Drift murmured once he was subdued again. He shoved three fingers in his valve.

Rodimus cried out; part fear and part ecstasy. His sensors were still raring to go, even if his mind wasn’t, it seemed. “Stop!”

“What?” Drift asked as he slid his fourth finger inside and pushed to the knuckle, using his thumb to stimulate the external sensors. “You want this. But you don’t have to go to other people for it. I’ll do _anything_ for you.”

“No! Get off me!” Rodimus yelled, trying again to sit up or kick his legs or _something_.

“ _Stop attacking me_ ,” Drift demanded, and Rodimus noticed the change in his tone. “I did all of this so I could have you. Because I love you so, so much.”

“No, you don’t,” Rodimus spat. He bent his knees and braced his feet against the slab and attempted to use his frame to throw his assailant off. But Drift simply shifted his weight along with him to compensate, not moving from where he was.

Finally, the madness was visible in Drift’s optics. He unsheathed his remaining sword and brought it down swiftly, stabbing him through the middle and pinning him to the berth. It wasn’t fatal, but it was obviously far from comfortable. Rodimus froze and didn’t dare move again. Even venting air hurt. Was it grazing his spinal strut?

“If I have to kill the whole crew to make you mine, I’ll do it.” He dragged his fingers over internal sensors and pressed his thumb over the external.

Rodimus’ hips bucked of their own accord, causing the sword to injure him even further. “I’ll do whatever you want, just leave my crew out of this.” He shifted again, involuntarily, and cried out with pain this time. “Take the sword out, please. I’m sorry!” He _wasn’t_ , but he did know what acting was.

Drift seemed to only just realise what he’d done. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he murmured as he removed the blade with a sharp pull. To his credit, he didn’t exacerbate the wound any. “And I would keep the rest of the crew out of this, but _you’re_ not going to.” He glared down at Trailbreaker pointedly.

Rodimus kept his sigh of relief to himself when Drift finally withdrew his hand from him. “I need to get someone up here to fix this. _I’ll make it up to you_ ,” he promised. He stroked Rodimus’ cheek one last time before disappearing back into the shadows.

Rodimus let his head fall back against the berth with a clang. How had it come to this? He felt his optics begin to spark as his upset finally burst to the surface.

* * *

 

“Hello Ratchet, I thought I might inform you the Captain is dying in his hab suite. As CMO I think it’s your responsibility.”

Ratchet grit his dentae as the transmission came through. This was obviously just a scheme to get him out of the main hangar so he could begin his rampage without any worries. “And however did that happen?” he spat over the private comm as he watched First Aid operate on Fortress.

He tutted and slapped his wrist when he made an imperfect cut with the scalpel. First Aid paused to glare at him, but Ratchet had bigger problems than an upset trainee.

“I don’t know, but he looked pretty bad when I left him.”

Ratchet grumbled and spoke out loud this time. “Ambulon, can you go to the Captain’s quarters please? And take…” He glanced around for a capable and trustworthy fighter. The ‘trustworthy’ made the candidates surprisingly scarce.

He studiously ignored Whirl, who was trying to make himself look like the obvious choice. Ratchet settled for what he could get.

“Can you go with him, Cyclonus?” Ratchet still didn’t know how Whirl managed to express his anger and disgust so clearly when he only had one facial feature.

The purple mech glanced back at Tailgate, who was still reluctantly working alongside Ultra Magnus. “Only if I can take Tailgate to keep an eye on him.”

Ratchet shrugged. “Go ahead. State of emergency means I’m in charge and Magnus knows it.” He turned back to the private comm. “Rodimus is still in his quarters, you say?”

“Yeah. _I’ll be waiting_.”

* * *

 

Drift smirked as he watched Tailgate jump at his own shadow for the fourth time since entering the corridor that housed the command hab suites. It didn’t matter whether those two went into the room or not, so he didn’t pay them much mind. Most of his attention was on Ambulon.

He swung down out of the vent opening in the ceiling. He took aim as he hung upside down in the middle of the corridor. Cyclonus leaped to the side, dragging Tailgate with him into Drift’s quarters. But Drift had already let off his shots, one aiming for Ambulon’s head and the other for his spark.

Both hit, and the medic fell back with a hole in his chest and very little of his head remaining. “Oh no Ratchet, it looks like Ambulon has already run into a bit of trouble. Why don’t you come up here yourself?”

Drift swung himself back up into the vents, just in case Cyclonus popped back out with a projectile weapon in hand. When Ratchet didn’t deign that with a response, Drift continued.

“My poor Roddy has lost a lot of energon, Ratchet _. I don’t know what I’d do if he died_.”

“It’s your fault he’s like that in the first place!” he yelled, losing his temper.

Drift simply waited in the silence, knowing it meant Ratchet was giving more orders in regard to retrieval. He wondered whether First Aid or Ratchet would be the next to come up. Would Ratchet prioritise the captain or the crew?

He paused and pulled out his datapad. Knowing Ratchet, he’d find the best way to minimise losses. That would involve saving Rodimus, but perhaps not before dispersing the crew or…

The image confirmed his current line of thought. He guessed Ratchet had learnt of the explosives he’d stolen, thanks to one of their lab technicians. The crew was evacuating the central hangar in balanced squadrons of ten.

It would take more effort to take them all out, _but it wasn’t impossible_.


	12. Chapter 12

The door to his hab suite opened and Rodimus jumped, jamming his legs together with a wince. Drift couldn’t be back already, surely…

“The hell is this?”

That was definitely a very grumpy-medic-sounding grumble. “Ratchet?” Rodimus was surprised by how weak his own voice sounded and clenched his fists. He couldn’t let things continue like this. _At this rate…_

“Easy Rodimus, easy,” he murmured in his medic voice. The slagger could be comforting when he was trying, after all. “No Whirl, out!” And turn around to be as harsh as ever.

“Come on Whirl, go away Whirl… Where did freaking Cyclonus go anyway? Coward!” The rambling slowly faded as he moved back into the corridor, and the door slid shut behind him.

Rodimus relaxed now that his dignity wasn’t at risk. Ratchet released him from the cuffs before bending down to check on Trailbreaker. “Stay still Rodimus, I’ll get to the wound in a moment,” he assured as he rolled Trailbreaker into the recovery position without so much as struggling. But, a quick glance was all it took for him to confirm the force field wielder was well beyond his help.

“So, you were right about Drift’s motives,” Ratchet commented quietly as he leaned over Rodimus and began clamping the broken fuel lines. “But if you were so sure of yourself, what possessed you to think fragging your bodyguard was a good idea?”

A dark feeling rose in Rodimus’ chassis at his tone. “Don’t you dare put the blame on me for that psycho’s actions!” he tried to yell, but again it came out weaker than intended. _It’s my fault, all my fault, I’m sorry. At this rate…_

Ratchet glared back at him even as he worked, and seemed to be having as much trouble preventing himself from spitting fire as Rodimus apparently was. “I’m not qualified to deal with this. If you don’t mind him seeing you this way, Rung is just outside the door. He was rather insistent about coming along.”

“I… I don’t have a problem with that.” As Ratchet called out to the psychiatrist, Rodimus’ thoughts returned to Drift.

_At this rate, we’ll all be dead before we reach Hedonia._

“Ratchet, you can remove the piece of the matrix, right? And replace it with something… else.”

* * *

 

The explosive devices looked simple, like flexible plastic sheets. Drift stuck another one to a key strut before tapping the remote detonator against it to ready it. The room above him held twenty-odd people, and destroying these connective struts would detach them from the Lost Light and leave them to drift through space.

He only wished he had time to find the room Rung and pals had evacuated to, but if he left Ratchet and Rodimus alone for too long, they would undoubtedly try to disappear again. He stood and glanced around when he heard something banging around outside. Drift returned to the normal ventilation shafts and peeked into the corridor.

There, below him, was the Sparkeater. Clearly it hadn’t been incinerated, or there wouldn't be much ship left. These creatures were all but impossible to kill. He landed in front of it heavily, cursing his injuries quietly again.

The thing seemed to sniff the air and curl into itself submissively. Its arm had healed but was now twisted beyond use. Drift realised he wasn’t the only one who had missing facial components.

To his surprise, it wasn’t even trying to instinctively attack him. He watched the three sparks float in its stomach, some distant part of him wondering if it was possible to extract them again.

But there wasn’t time for thoughts like that. He had to get back now. The Sparkeater followed him down the hallway, keeping a safe distance.

* * *

 

Tailgate was almost clanking he was shaking so hard. He glanced across the room to make sure Cyclonus wasn’t about to go anywhere without him. Was Ambulon _dead_?

He spotted Cyclonus by the wall and hurried over to him. He was touching something that was leaning against it. A pale blue glow lit up the room softly when his hand closed around it. Tailgate realised it was a rather large sword.

“What’s that?”

To his surprise, he actually got an answer. “I am unsure, but I think it likes me.”

Tailgate wrung his hands nervously and shifted from foot to foot. “What do we do if he comes in here? Will he be mad?”

“If he does, you will just be in the way. You should shield yourself from his blasters by hiding behind the recharge slab.” Cyclonus stood and a small bolt of energy crackled up and down the blade. “I, meanwhile, will be using this.”

* * *

 

Rung sat beside Rodimus as Ratchet wiped up the spilled energon, having finally finished the temporary reparations. Rodimus had a sour look on his face as he was made to ingest the medical grade energon Ratchet had probably been carrying in his subspace since the war had begun.

“Were you hurt anywhere else, Rodimus?” Ratchet asked, slowing his wiping movements and adopting a deeper frown.

Knowing what he was referring to, and appreciating his discretion, Rodimus shook his head. “I’m a little, um, strained from Trailbreaker, but Drift didn’t do much after stabbing me.”

“Well Mr Stabby is on his way back!” Whirl warned from outside.

“We’re done here, anyway,” Ratchet said stiffly as he held out the remote to Rodimus. He accepted it with a solemn nod, hiding it in a wrist compartment for now. “And no, I couldn’t just remove the matrix.”

“Hmm, it’ll have to do.” He looked up to see Whirl and Skids had disappeared from view, as planned.

A private comm came through the line. “All other crew members accounted for, defusing explosives now.” Rodimus didn’t answer Ultra Magnus, but the mech wouldn’t be concerned about that. He had a fair idea of the situation.

But Rodimus still wasn’t quite prepared to meet Drift’s gaze again.

* * *

 

Drift glanced around, suspicious that no one appeared to be in the hallway. They were either going to ambush him, or they had moved Rodimus despite his injuries. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

He drew his guns before approaching the door. It slid open and he stepped inside, seeing only Ratchet, Rung and Rodimus. The latter glanced up, but didn’t quite look at him.

He stepped into the room, but tensed when he thought he heard something behind him. He moved to the side, but wasn’t fast enough to prevent the all too familiar blade of the Great Sword from piercing his chest. His quick reaction had saved his spark, though. Drift fell to his knees as the excruciating pain took over, blasters sliding out of his grip.

“Huh, guess it takes a psycho Decepticon to kill a psycho Decepticon,” Whirl commented offhandedly from somewhere back in the corridor.

Drift glanced around at the smack of metal against metal as Cyclonus’ fist met the ‘copter’s head unit. _If the backup are fighting each other, maybe there’s still a chance._

With some difficulty, he managed to push and pull the blade back out the way it had come. He lined his foot up with the blade’s guard, and just as he managed to push it the final distance, there was a hauntingly familiar voice.

_“I thought your name was Drift.”_

He glanced down at the sword as it clattered to the ground, stained with his own energon. He left his guns on the floor and picked it up as he stood again. For some reason his legs felt like they were about to give out, and the three mechs in front of him were staring in horror. But all he felt was a soothing serenity pass over him.

“Whoa, whoa, didn’t I kill you already?” Whirl demanded suddenly.

Cyclonus was a little more helpful. “Sparkeater!” he warned.

There was a rifle shot, and Drift thought he saw Rodimus curse. Suddenly he was approaching him with a stagger, hand clamped over his middle. Drift didn’t drop his guard, but he could tell already that he was going to be rather less hostile this time.

Rodimus reached for him and Drift secured the sword on his back before he moved forward, seeing the captain’s injury was making him weak. Drift shivered as Rodimus ran his hands up his arms, and leaned over to murmur in his audial. “We could still run away together. Hedonia isn’t that far.”

Drift scanned his face cautiously, but couldn’t help the rise of hope. Something told him there was no need to worry this time. Drift glanced at Ratchet, but quickly dismissed that thought. He would take what he could get now. They could always come back. “Are any of the smaller ships ready for a long journey?”

“Just the one,” Rodimus murmured and slung an arm over his shoulder so they could use each other as a crutch as they made their way down the hall. He glanced back, watching Rung bait the Sparkeater by running in the opposite direction. Cyclonus, Whirl and Skids followed after him, looking oddly ridiculous.

As they made their way to the lifeboats, energon began to splat on the ground. Drift realised it wasn’t only his own. “Are you going to be all right, Roddy?”

“Everything will be fine. Let’s get out of here, and then we can worry about it.”

He felt happiness tentatively rise in his chest at the implication of them, together. Forever.

When they reached the boat, Drift left Rodimus to plan their course: a task that didn’t require walking around. Drift checked the supplies and did a basic pre-flight test. They could get to Hedonia with all of this, but not much further. Still, they’d manage. He was sure of it.

Once they’d cleared the Lost Light, Rodimus engaged the autopilot and shakily stood. Drift met him in the middle of the room, and was pleased when he laced his arms around him in an embrace. Drift held him tight in return, needing him closer. Rodimus’ hand shifted behind his head a little, but he didn’t pay it any mind.

“I love you, Rodimus,” he murmured.

Rodimus shifted slightly before finally answering, “Till all are one.”

“You say that too m-”

_Click._

* * *

 

Ratchet ran to the observation deck, not quite able to believe the hot-headed captain was about to go through with this. He arrived in time to see the small ship detach from the Lost Light and begin its course _away_ from them, and Hedonia.

His optics widened as the ship abruptly exploded outwards, the flash of blue seemingly disintegrating it to nothing. But of course, a spark would cause an extremely powerful explosion, and who knew what the matrix had contributed to that. Ratchet numbly tried his comm link to Drift. The soft buzz of static greeted him, and he suddenly wasn’t sure who he was mourning.

“Ratchet, the explosives have been deactivated and cleared,” Ultra Magnus reported from behind him.

He offlined his optics for a moment. _I’m far too old for this._ He straightened up and nodded. “Then let’s go clean this mess up.”

A message from command on Cybertron made him pause in his steps. It seemed to have defaulted to him and Magnus when Rodimus’ signal couldn’t be detected.

_PRELIMINARY SIGNS OF PREVIOUSLY UNKNOWN HOT SPOT DETECTED IN YOUR VICINITY. INVESTIGATE._


	13. Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events begin to diverge at Chapter 12, Scene 5, so I’ve started this alternate ending chapter from there.

Drift glanced around, suspicious that no one appeared to be in the hallway. They were either going to ambush him, or they had moved Rodimus despite his injuries. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

He drew his guns before approaching the door. It slid open and he stepped inside, seeing only Ratchet, Rung and Rodimus. The latter glanced up, but didn’t quite look at him.

Something in his chassis tightened at the lack of acknowledgement, distracting him from his surroundings for a critical moment. He stood slightly taller with an invent, and it was only that slight movement that saved his spark from being directly pierced by the Great Sword.

Drift faltered as the all too familiar blade pinned him to the deck. He panicked as his protocols entered emergency shutdown. Even after his audio receptors had shut off, he thought he heard _something._

_“I thought your name was Drift.”_

* * *

Rodimus lay back on one of the recharge slabs in the crowded medibay, absently watching Fortress Maximus hobble across the room in his new body. First Aid supported and guided his movements, ensuring his own handiwork had been successful. But even Ratchet had openly praised his work on this one, so he didn’t think there was much to worry about.

Rodimus still wasn’t able to move much without irritating his wounds, but he was happy to stay at the bottom of the triage queue. Some of his crew were in much worse condition. He could see welding light flickering in the corner of the medibay where Ratchet was working on Ambulon behind a screen. He’d been at it all night, and things didn’t sound good.

Well… Rodimus was fine with being stuck in the medibay in theory. But then there was the part where he was actually doing paperwork out of boredom. Magnus had better enjoy it while he could.

He turned his head away from the datapad in his hands to look at the berth next to him. Drift’s body had been mostly restored, and the Great Sword hadn’t left his hand since they’d been dragged into the medibay yesterday. Cyclonus had said it wouldn’t work for him until his personality changed, but Rodimus now knew all too well what a simple hunk of metal could do in the wrong hands. Still, he was unconscious, so it didn’t matter either way at the moment.

Rodimus offlined his optics as his mind wandered back to Trailbreaker. While it was Drift who had raised his hand, it was Rodimus who had put him in such a dangerous position. But how could he apologise to someone beyond his reach?

They needed to bury everyone as soon as possible, and hold a proper ceremony. But he didn’t want to do anything until they were sure of what they were going to do with Drift. Lock him away? Execution? Banishment?

Rodimus knew it would be his call, and he wasn’t looking forward to making it.

All onlineable optics snapped to the berth next to Rodimus when Drift stirred. The Great Sword began to glow gently, and First Aid froze with the halfway prepped syringe of sedative in his hands.

“I think it’s all right,” Rodimus said quietly, recalling what Cyclonus had said. It seemed the sword itself was somehow responsible for it, but his personality must have been altered if it was glowing like that. “Drift?”

“Ah, ouch. What happened?” he asked, vocaliser sounding like it had gone unused for a century. His dominant hand held onto the sword while his other rubbed at his recently restored faceplate.

“What do you remember?” Rodimus asked diplomatically, thinking Drift’s sentence may just hang on the answer.

Things seemed to tick over in his mind before he froze. He glanced around the room, and kept his mouth shut when he saw the number of people who were listening. Rodimus allowed the private comm to come through. “I hurt you. And… everyone.”

The focus on him, personally, didn’t slip by Rodimus. But he sounded more normal, and that was something. “Magnus is going to revoke your badge. And I can’t, in good conscience, let you stay on the ship.” Pain filled Drift’s expression, but the fact he didn’t argue was telling.

Drift expelled air and turned to look back up at the ceiling. “You’re not going to execute me?”

“If you don’t have your sword on you the next time I see you, I might change my mind.”

He lifted the blade to inspect it, making First Aid retreat another step. He had no idea what they were talking about, and he was getting nervous. “There’s a reason I call it my conscience. I hear _him_ sometimes.”

Rodimus wasn’t sure what to say to that. Or really to anything Drift would ever say or do again. So his reply was simple. “You have 48 hours.”

“This isn’t what I wanted at all.”

“It’s not about what you want.”

“I know.”

And then, finally, one of them said something out loud. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

Drift knelt on foreign soil, not paying heed to the way dirt ground into his knee joints. They were already beyond the point of good repair given the combined lack of time and Cybertronian-appropriate facilities. He sat back on his knees, feeling the familiar posture wash over him, just as Wing had taught him.

He removed the Great Sword as he sat, and balanced its weight evenly between his open palms. The longer he sat, the heavier it would get, and the more he would be forced to contemplate his burden. The uncomfortable position his feet were forced into would also only get worse as time went by.

Penance, they had called it.

Self-flagellation, Ratchet called it.

Drift wondered whether his tone would be as scornful if he could see him now. But Ratchet and Rodimus were the ones who had survived him, somehow, along with Fortress and Rung. Others weren’t so lucky. _Red Alert. Rewind. Chromedome. Trailbreaker. Ambulon?_ He still wasn’t sure what had happened with him, but felt he should assume the worst.

His contemplation came to its natural end, but his mind came back to his body too quickly. The ache in his arms and legs hit him suddenly. But that was a small price to pay.

He stood, shakily at first, but there was work to do. He had to get these Decepticons shipped to a secure facility before they broke out of the shuttle’s cell again. Doing things this way was far from easy, but he was never going to take the easy way out again.

‘How many more?’ Ratchet had asked him at one point. If he ever saw him again, Drift would be able to answer confidently.

_Zero._

**Author's Note:**

> So, where did this fic come from? I was just browsing the comments on “Little Choices” by GreyLiliy and there was someone saying something about yandere Drift and how terrifying he would be. My brain said "challenge accepted" and here we are.


End file.
